Breakaway
by Mylee
Summary: This story is inspired by the Kelly Clarkson song of the same name. It starts the summer Trixie graduates from high school. She ends up making a monumental decision by the end of the story. It will be continued in a next story, coming soon! Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**Breakaway**

Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this fic!

The tension brought on by reading through the piles upon piles of applications for the college scholarships was getting to him. Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed his dark, obsidian eyes, hoping against hope that the stack of applications he had yet to read through would miraculously jump from his in-basket to his completed basket. And he had only read a pitiful amount so far, had barely finished with all the last names beginning with the letter A, and had many more to peruse before he could consider himself finished with his tedious and rather arduous chore. When he cracked open an eye, he noted with some chagrin that it hadn't happened. None of the damned pieces of paper had moved from where he had placed them. There were still too many for him to count, waiting patiently in his in-basket. Disgusted, he slid back from his cluttered desk and stood up, needing something more active to do than simply pushing around applications, and meandered his way towards the long row of windows that ran from floor to ceiling, letting in the dark of the night. Laying his forehead against the smooth glass of the window, he stared unseeingly at the twinkling lights of the staggered stream of vehicles passing by below and bit back a groan, settling for a much-needed sigh instead. What he would give for something, anything, else to do instead of this godforsaken task.

The door opened. "Do you think anyone would care if we simply marked all of them as acceptable and gave each applicant the standard five hundred dollar scholarship?" he questioned without looking at the person who stood framed in the doorway. He knew who it was. About to give in and call it a night, despite the fact they had only been working for a pathetic stretch of forty-five agonizing minutes, if that, his nose caught the captivating smell of coffee. Finally interested in something besides his unappetizing thoughts, he slowly turned around and met her amused look with a grateful one of his own. "You're the best."

She gave a small chuckle and sauntered her way into the room, depositing his cup of salvation on his cluttered desk. She understood her partner, had worked with him longer and more closely than she cared to admit. If they were to complete their task in the time frame allotted to them, then he needed sustenance in the form of caffeine. Otherwise she was going to end up giving him a swift kick to his posterior. "Not a chance in hell," she responded belatedly to his question and took her seat at the next desk over, her mug of hot tea placed carefully off to the side. Decaffeinated tea. Caffeine was not one of her vices. "We don't have a choice, as you very well know. We never have a choice when it comes to any of our assignments. I don't have to tell you that it's our punishment for not coming through last week. We failed. Therefore, we are the lucky saps who pulled desk duty." And there were more agents than she could count who were secretly thrilled that they had been awarded the chore. They were probably all laughing in their sleeves that they had managed to sidestep the task.

He had a number of arguments about why they had failed on their last mission, mainly because one simply couldn't fight nature or the unexpected tropical storm that had cheerfully turned into a category four hurricane and had ripped through the area hours before they were set to meet up with an informant. They lost the contact, lost the valuable information, and had ultimately failed on their mission due to no fault of their own. Failure was failure, with no excuses ever offered or accepted, even when Mother Nature was clearly at fault. They had ended up here, doing the last thing either one of them ever liked doing. Paperwork. There was nothing quite like reading paperwork. "I wouldn't call us lucky," he replied sarcastically. "We're more like the…"

She cut off the stream of imaginative swear words about to come from his lips with an authoritative wave of her hand. "Enough of that," she muttered briskly and reached for her next application. "Whatever the reason, we've been given this job. It's up to us to sort through the paperwork, to find the most deserving applicants, award a few scholarships as needed, as well as screen for any possible, ahh, potential hopefuls for later use." She arched an eye at the thought. Only a handful of applicants every truly panned out from this one aspect of the agency's careful and extremely selective screening process. But it was worth every effort. The agents who had been discovered through the scholarship avenue were stellar. Even better, not one had ever turned down the offer to join their agency when the truth had been revealed to them.

He took a large sip of his coffee, waited until he could feel the effects of the caffeine start to pour through his veins, before he reluctantly followed her example and reached forward for another application. "You would think that the powers that be would have devised a better recruiting system by now," he noted after reading what he considered to be a sub-par essay and placed it on the negative side without a moment's regret.

She skimmed her most recent application and rejected it in ten seconds flat. There wasn't a need to complete a more in-depth check with the aid of their high-tech equipment and the phenomenal computer network available to them. "It's worked extremely well for the past twenty-five years," she explained needlessly. "You know us as well as I do. We don't tamper with anything that works."

"It's still a horrible assignment," he grumbled under his breath, wishing that he could be doing something, anything, that was more active. Instead, he was stuck inside the office, unable to move from it until they had completed their job. All he could think about was how much it sucked.

"I never expected to be the one to start screening applicants," she answered, setting aside yet another piece of paper. Nothing extraordinary so far. She had found two applicants who she felt deserved the standard scholarship but no one was standing out in any way, shape or form. When she had asked her supervisor over an hour ago how they would know if they had discovered someone deserving of the full scholarship and future consideration as an agent, he had responded with the simple answer that they would know it when they found it. With no clear objectives or requirements, it was frustrating. All they had to go on was their own intuition. She stared at her finished pile and hoped she hadn't missed someone. She couldn't be sure. "I've finished with the last names beginning with M. How are the A's going?"

He flipped over the next application, unperturbed by his lack of selections. It didn't bother him one way or the other if he had missed a potential or not. He wasn't about to invest his normal amount of energy in what he perceived to be a fruitless and meaningless endeavor. "All finished. In fact, I was finished with that particular letter of the alphabet before you went to get the coffee," he boasted with a smug grin that had her rolling her eyes. He decided to rub it in a little further. It felt good to be ahead of her. "By the way, I've already checked over a few B's."

Very competitive in nature, it rankled to know that he was further ahead than her. She did her best not to let it bother her. "Have you found any possibilities yet?" she wondered aloud. The agency handed out the standard scholarships to a predetermined number of candidates in order to make the entire process appear more realistic and to not draw any attention to their true aim. Secrecy had been their strongest weapon, would continue to be so for years to come. It had worked for twenty-five years. No one, not a government agency, a single rejected applicant, or standard scholarship receiver, had ever caught on or complained.

"Nope. Not a single one." He scrubbed a hand over his face, felt the stubble that was starting to appear, and stared at his mug, willing it to have something stronger inside it than simple coffee. With lids half-closed, he barely perused the next one before rejecting it, too.

They worked together in companionable silence for the next five minutes, both as focused as they could be on the extremely mundane and unexciting task of reading scholarship applications from young adults who had just graduated from high school. It was difficult, especially when the next essay sounded like a carbon-copy of the one before it. Then he came across a name and an application that had him frowning. He read it over twice while he could feel an excitement start to hum through him, which was extremely unusual since he had only expected to be bored through the entire chore. But he couldn't deny the excitement or the possibility that he had managed to strike gold. It felt even better because it had eluded his partner. Somehow he knew that he had come across a different one, one that their supervisor may just feel met the 'potential' category. There wasn't anything wrong with his intuition. He set the paper down and flipped on his laptop.

Lifting her head, she caught the flurry of motion from her partner. Her eyebrows snapped together while she watched him hurriedly type into his computer, beginning the process of an in-depth background check. "It looks like the fishing expedition may have finally caught someone," she mumbled quietly and stood up from her seat, her latest application forgotten on her messy desk. Without hesitation, she walked behind his chair and picked up the one that had caught his interest. "Gotta like the alliteration of the name," she remarked aloud.

"She graduated from high school a week ago and is scheduled to attend NYU in the fall," he informed her after checking out the information on his screen. "Obviously, she's already been accepted there. And, surprise, surprise, criminal justice is her declared major."

"She wouldn't have applied for one of our scholarships if it wasn't," she replied smoothly. Nowadays, the agency only gave out funding to criminal justice majors. It was the only change that had been made to their scholarship program since criminal justice was still a rather recent program of study. Although she already had a pretty good idea why the applicant had caught his attention, she decided to play dumb and gestured towards the picture of the smiling girl on the screen. "Tell me. What's so interesting about this one?"

He shot her a look of disbelief over his shoulder. When he saw the amused glint to her eye, he decided to make her tell him the answer to her own question. "Read her essay, if you haven't done so already. It will tell you why she's interested in pursuing a career in her chosen field."

"The Reason Why I Want to Study Criminal Justice," she declared dramatically, earning a small, playful nudge from him that told her to ignore the theatrics and move on. "All right, all right," she gave in with a short laugh. "I'll be serious. Let's see why she wants to make this her chosen course." She read the essay, thought about the information he would have had access to on their computer network, and then asked, her voice tinted with a bit of astonishment to it, "Has she really done all of this?" If she had, then she would have already assisted in more arrests than their newest set of recruits.

"She's done more, a whole lot more, than she wrote down," he shot back smoothly. "For some reason she was being extremely modest." He pointed out the information on the computer screen, which showed a list of the applicant's assistance in apprehending various types of criminals with many different agencies, ranging from her local police station and going all the way up to the United States Secret Service.

She absorbed the information but focused on something completely different. The name. It was written at the top of the screen, printed in a vibrant red instead of the customary black. Her manicured nail tapped against the screen, calling attention to it. "Why is her name written in red?" It was puzzling. She had run the names of the first few applicants she had perused through her computer, not because she was interested in finding out their backgrounds or in pursuing them as potentials for their agency, but because she had wanted to discover how the process worked. None of the names she had researched had been written in red. They had all been showing in plain, boring, and basic black.

"It looks to me like our supervisor was testing us," he answered back with a smart chuckle, not the least bit surprised, and correctly guessing that he had already gone through the applications and had red-flagged any potential hopefuls. "He's already made his mind up about this one, that's for sure. He wants her here, if at all possible."

"So, what do we do now?" It wasn't the same type of adrenaline that kicked in when she was fighting an enemy or running for her very life, but it was oddly stimulating to have come across a person who could become an agent. A potential. A hopeful. It was certainly better than reading boring application after boring application.

Even if he had had doubts about his intuition, they would have been erased by the flashy red of her name. Running his fingers along the top of his desk, he remarked decidedly, "We offer her the full scholarship, of course. It's what brought you and me into the agency, as well as many others."

"It was hard to turn down a free ride," she remarked truthfully. Then she peered closer, reading more about their find. "But there could be a problem with her. I don't know if NYU is the best place, not if we want to invite her into our fold." She tapped the computer screen again when he whipped his head around.

He had missed something. He didn't like overlooking anything. "What's that?" he barked out sharply.

"She's got something that we never had, something that the agency generally prefers their agents not to possess," she replied frankly. Lone wolves were recruited, not people with the large amount of family that their potential had. Their supervisor generally preferred agents without any ties. She couldn't think of one agent who had any close family ties, or even a close friend, other than someone in the agency.

He saw what she was pointing at, noticed the multitude of family and friends that were listed under her name, and felt a curse word burst from his lips. She was right. The list began with the members of her immediate family, included an impressive list of friends, some who he knew had to be the children of millionaires, and ended with the name of her current (and only) boyfriend. She was hip-deep in what their agency believed to be liabilities. Steepling his hands together, he thought about it and then nodded. In his mind it was already decided. Obviously their supervisor was willing to overlook the many connections she would have outside the agency. He frowned, trying to think like their supervisor. "She can't be forced into joining us. No one can. But she could possibly be enticed."

It seemed farfetched that such a typical all-American girl would ever want to leave her family and friends behind but she was intrigued by the notion and informed him that the older brothers were already in college. "She has two siblings who are also enrolled at NYU. Her older brother is in pre-med while the next one is working on a degree in journalism. When she joins them in the fall that will mean her family will have three children in college. I don't need to tell you that has to be expensive for them, even if the family does get a generous discount with three siblings attending the same university. Maybe she would accept our offer." She brushed back a strand of dark brown hair and contemplated the information but she didn't believe there would be an acceptance coming their way. If a miracle did happen and the hopeful did accept, then they would need to get her as far away from the East Coast as possible. "The thought of a free ride to college was very enticing to us but we were both relatively alone in the world. She's not."

They were both living proof that the agency preferred agents without ties. While she had grown up in the foster system, bouncing from home to home, he hadn't been as alone as she had been. An alcoholic mother, an abusive stepfather. To him, they didn't count or ever matter anymore. He had been more than willing to leave them behind when something better and more exciting had come his way. He shook away the thoughts of his life before he joined the agency and focused on his partner. Although he could have found out the information just as quickly, he had learned a long time ago it was best to keep her involved in whatever task they were working on. "Where does she live again?"

"New York," she answered, looking at him expectantly. She waited for him to make the decision she had already come up with before adding, "In a small town called Sleepyside."

"And she's planning on attending NYU." He stroked his chin, aware of how unacceptable that would be to their supervisor. For it to truly work, she would need to be separated from her large support system. If she were to accept their full scholarship, it couldn't be to NYU. That would be much too close to her roots for any further training to occur. It would have to be farther away, not only from the influence of her family and friends but also from her boyfriend. No ties was always the most acceptable. "The best thing to do would be to try and get her away from the influence of her family and friends," he thought aloud and then nodded when he saw the answering gleam in her eyes. "The entire way across the country out to do it."

She watched him scribble down the information as it came to him. "California, huh?" While there were many fronts that housed their agency, both in the United States and around the world, California had been the first and was still the most prominent. It was the exact place she would have picked for their candidate.

"He obviously would like her there. Plus it would put a significant amount of distance between her and her family." He stared down at his paper and contemplated how to write out their offer to the candidate. "Let's see. It'll have to be her choice. That's the only way it would work. We also can't seem too obvious or raise suspicions." He considered the problem for a moment and then announced sagely, "We'll begin by offering her the standard scholarship for her four years at NYU."

"Five hundred dollars a year," she interjected but tilted her head to the side, perplexed. It didn't make any sense to her. "Why would we do that?"

His lip curled at her interruption. "To make it seem even more legitimate."

"But that doesn't get her to California," she pointed out needlessly. "That's where we want her."

"Give me a minute. I'm coming to it," he admonished her with a sardonic tilt of his lips. "I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted that we can offer her two options. Should she decide to stay at NYU, she can have the standard scholarship but, if she chooses to come to California University instead, she can have the coveted full ride. No need to pay tuition, room and board, or even the astronomical cost of those pesky textbooks. She gets it all. And we get her away from her home. It's a win for all of us." Twirling his pencil, he leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile on his lips.

Her family and friends wouldn't win. They would end up losing, she realized, but kept the thought to herself. She refused to acknowledge the tiny amount of guilt that wanted to gnaw at her. They could only make the offer. The ultimate choice would be up to her. "But will she take it?" She looked at the picture of the smiling blonde. There wasn't a hint of desperation or unhappiness to her or anything to suggest that she would be willing to leave everything she knew and loved behind. If anything, she looked joyful, buoyant, and, worse still, completely innocent, the exact opposite of how many of the agents had looked when they first came into the agency. Shrugging her shoulder, she knew they couldn't do anything else but attempt to tempt her.

"Time will tell." He clicked out of the screen and began the task of typing up her acceptance letter, as well as adding in the unusual condition for her full scholarship. Knowing that she would need a reason why the full scholarship would come to her only if she chose to attend California University, he went with the truth and explained in the letter that CU had the very best and most progressive criminal justice program in the country. It was only a slight bend to the truth when he added in that the full scholarship could only be awarded to an attendee of that particular university. He made certain to include that they would take care of enrolling her in the university should she accept their offer and gave her two weeks before they would need to hear her decision. "She wants to be a private detective, did you know that?" he questioned with a small, wry chuckle. A few fronts were private detective agencies, such as the one that they were currently working out of. "It is her wish to open up her own agency with her best friend after she graduates from college and gets her license. It would be called The Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency."

She stopped looking over his shoulder and rushed over to her desk where she began searching through her applications, carefully examining each of her W's. No Wheelers. There was nothing even remotely close to a Wheeler in her stack. "That's odd," she mumbled, her hand on her hip and a frown on her lips. "Her would-be partner didn't apply for a scholarship."

"That would be because she is quite wealthy," he answered while rereading the draft of his acceptance letter. Satisfied with it, he saved it and emailed it to their supervisor, who would have the final decision on any choices that they made, as well as make any corrections or deletions. "Her father would be Matthew Wheeler, of Wheeler & Hart, International. In case you didn't make the connection, her mother is Madeleine Hart Wheeler, also a co-owner in the business. Her mother's involvement is more of a technicality, by choice, from what I understand. Needless to say, their daughter wouldn't need the extra assistance."

Out of curiosity, she typed in the name on her computer. Not surprisingly, Madeleine G. Wheeler, nicknamed Honey, was written in black, not red. The information below her picture was an exact copy of what he had recently told her but also included the name of her adopted brother. She sat back in her seat and murmured, "She's not to be considered."

"Family's too high profile," he mumbled back. "We typically don't seek out the offspring of multi-millionaires."

She had to laugh at that before she sobered. "Be that as it may, I seriously doubt if one Beatrix Belden will be accepting our rather lucrative offer. She doesn't seem to be the type to want to leave her family and her friends. If anything, I would say that she draws her strength from them." She didn't add that she had also just made the connection that the girl was also dating the brother of her best friend. It seemed to be yet another nail in their figurative coffin. She wouldn't be coming.

"I'm in complete agreement with you." The offer had to be made even if he felt that it was useless. They couldn't overlook her simply because she didn't possess one of the normal prerequisites of having no close ties to anyone else in the world. "It would take something huge to happen, something disastrous, for her to accept our offer. If you ask me, she'll be attending NYU in the fall with the rest of her family." He took one last look at her application before flipping it over and then began reading the next one but he couldn't get Belden out of his mind. He had serious doubts that he would come across anyone who had as much promise as the girl from Sleepyside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Breakaway**

Chapter One

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

She couldn't even begin to tell how many times she had traveled the path to the Manor House over the years. It had to number well into the thousands by now. She was nearly an everyday visitor to the house, sometimes two or three times a day, whether she was meeting up with her best friend or her boyfriend of the past two years. Almost two years, she corrected herself with an inward smile of delight. They only had one week to go before they reached their anniversary. The thought of Jim brought her to a halt, as it usually did. His handsome face with his trademark lopsided grin floated in front of her, making her eyes sparkle with their cheerful blue brilliance, before she swallowed a small sigh of disappointment. He wouldn't be at the house this morning, having spent the following evening camping out somewhere in the preserve with her brothers and Dan. But she would see him later tonight, when he stopped by her house for dinner. Lost in her all-consuming thoughts, Trixie completely missed out on the beauty of the early summer day surrounding her. The pretty wildflowers dotting the edges of the path didn't register. Neither did the generous shade offered by the canopy of branches overhead. The loud call of a crow finally interrupted her train of thought and called her attention back to her task at hand. Reluctantly leaving her thoughts of Jim behind, she started forward.

She made it to the end of the path and soon found herself staring at the Manor House and its large stables. Believing that Honey would already be waiting for her, she headed straight towards the large building, eager to start their morning ride before it got too hot on the mid-June day. After entering the stables, Trixie was surprised to find that the horses were the only ones in attendance. Somehow she had managed to beat her best friend. Shrugging her shoulder, she walked up to her favorite horse and petted her velvety nose. "Here's the carrot I promised you yesterday," she murmured and held it out for Susie to munch on. Susie, always delighted to see one of her favorite people, made quick work of the carrot before nuzzling her head into Trixie's hand.

Honey paused in the doorway and clasped her hands. She let out a small laugh. "My goodness, you beat me!" she exclaimed, pleased. It was rare for Trixie to beat anyone anywhere, unless it had something to do with one of her pet projects. She was generally one of the last to arrive, with Honey or Di usually a close second. Their combined tendency towards tardiness drove the male Bob-Whites practically insane with impatience at times, although Honey had to admit that the young men were much more accepting of it now than they had been a few years earlier. They had to have become used to it by now. They hadn't had much of a choice.

"'Morning, Honey!" Trixie sent her a wide grin over her shoulder. "Moms went easy on me with my chores again. She let me out of the vacuuming this morning and sent me up here to meet you. She knows it's supposed to get hot again today and that this is the best time for us to go out for a ride."

Honey quickly made her way over to Lady, her favorite horse, and began the process of getting the gentle horse prepared for the ride. "I was inside looking over the pictures from our graduation last week. That's why I was a little late," she said to Trixie offhandedly. Her mother had taken a large number of pictures before, during and after the graduation ceremony. Honey had over four huge packets of pictures to go through. "You'll have to look through them with me later. There are some really nice pictures in there." Honey knew that Trixie would love the ones of her and Jim, as well as the group shots of all seven of the Bob-Whites. After she placed the saddle on Lady's back, she added, "I can't believe that we're finally finished with Sleepyside Junior-Senior High School. It's only been a week but I still wake up each morning, feeling as if I should be getting ready for yet another tedious day of high school."

"I know what you mean." The same affliction affected her. She could hardly believe that she didn't have to attend the hallowed halls of their high school anymore. The diploma sitting on her dresser had been her ticket out of there. She couldn't have been more excited, pleased or jubilant to see the end of her high school days. "I'm surprised that you haven't looked through the graduation pictures before," Trixie noted curiously as she copied Honey and made quick work of preparing Susie.

"You know me and my habit of forgetting to do certain chores. How many times have I forgotten to get the mail over the years? More often than not the mail from the previous day is still sitting in our mailbox before Miss Trask, Tom, Celia or Jim, if he's home, picks it up." Honey rolled her eyes at herself. "Miss Trask very nicely picked them up from the store yesterday. I was supposed to get them each day for the past week but, well, I kept forgetting to. I guess she finally figured out that if she didn't pick them up they were going to be stuck down there for the rest of the summer!"

Trixie giggled and expertly mounted her horse. She followed behind Honey as the two led their horses onto the beaten path that would take them into the preserve. The sun was just starting its trek towards its highest peak of the day with only a few white clouds floating in the sky. There was still a small breeze that blew through the trees, which made the air more refreshing than it would be in an hour or so. They traveled in silence until they came to a shady glade. Then Honey came to a stop and slowly dismounted, wanting to give Lady a break from riding and a chance to munch on the plentiful sweet green grass, as well as drink from the small stream that ran through the edge of the glade.

Honey sat down on the ground. "Just think," she murmured as she closed her eyes and stared up into the wide expanse of the blue sky above, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face, "we have the entire summer free from any schoolwork. No more papers. No more homework assignments. No more tests. And no more finals!"

"Until the fall," Trixie gently reminded her as she slid off of Susie. Neither had ever been enamored with schoolwork although Trixie had a strong suspicion that she would like college life much better than high school. At least she would be able to focus on what she wanted to do with her life, instead of learning mundane and potentially useless information, such as the periodic table of elements or tangent line approximation. She had absolutely every confidence that she would never have to apply any of that information in her real life.

"Don't remind me," Honey admonished her gently, cracking open one eye, and holding back a laugh. She patted the spot next to her and waited for Trixie to flop down. "You're going to have to humor me, Trixie Belden, whether you want to or not. Let me dwell in this place where there is no such thing as homework."

"As you wish," Trixie chuckled, more than familiar with the feeling. "You don't have to beg me to not talk about homework."

"No more school talk, either. That would be absolutely lovely. Let's just pretend that there isn't any type of higher education out there," Honey announced decidedly. She turned towards Trixie and added, "We'll move on to more important avenues instead. For instance, you can tell me how you are enjoying your summer job."

They looked at each other for a full minute before bursting into a round of boisterous laughter. When she was able to talk, Trixie said breathlessly, "I still think that I earned the prize for the most surprising summer job out of us all. No one, and I do mean no one, could ever have predicted where I would end up working this summer."

"You can say that again," Honey answered after her amused giggles tapered off. She swiped away a few tears of mirth from her lovely hazel eyes. "I can honestly say that I never, ever, expected you to be working where you are."

"Don't forget that you were also invited to work, should the need ever arise," Trixie reminded her. Then she picked up a twig and began snapping it into smaller pieces. Lifting her eyebrows at Honey, she asked, "Can you believe that Mr. Lytell asked me to work in his store? Me? I still can't get over it. It's got to be one of the most unusual things ever."

"He's finally seen how helpful you really are," Honey declared loyally before dissolving into another set of nearly painful chuckles. "Or it could be that he wants to thank you. After all, you helped him out of a painful predicament a few weeks ago. If you hadn't stopped in his store to buy your favorite strawberry pop a few weeks ago, he would probably still be lying in that pool of water that he slipped in. You took care of him, called the ambulance for him, and even cleaned up the spill from the leaky pipe. He had to have been impressed with you, especially since he offered you a summer job working in his store." Honey tried to hold the giggles in, she really did, but she could never have predicted that Trixie Belden, of all people, would end up working for the crotchety gentleman, and found herself laughing again.

Trixie flashed a grin at the irony of it all. Working in Mr. Lytell's little store had never occurred to her as a possible job or one that she had ever expected to actually like having. It was turning out to be an ideal arrangement for her since she could ride her bike to the store for her shift and visit with her family and friends who dropped in whenever they could. The best part of her job was that fact that Mr. Lytell was rarely there. He must have come to the same conclusion that she had. As long as they didn't have to see each other or partake in an actual conversation, he was content with her work. He also had the pain of his recovery from his recent knee surgery to keep him away, as well as two sessions a week of physical therapy, with Miss Trask as his willing chauffeur, to occupy his time. When he stopped by the store, he always made certain to do it when his other worker was there, and never when it was Trixie's shift. He had hired another student from Trixie's graduating class, a nice, quiet girl named Aubrey Hile, and had also included Honey as a possible employee as a substitute if either girl couldn't come in. Thinking about the possibility, she arched an eyebrow and inquired, "What about you, Honey? Do you think you'll ever stand behind the counter at Mr. Lytell's store? He made you that offer, too, you know."

"Maybe. It could happen!" Honey sang out gaily. She hadn't been able to work a shift there yet since she had taken a job at Dr. Ferris's office. She was working as an assistant to the receptionist at the front desk, answering phone calls, making appointments, and helping to file paperwork. "I'm having a lot of fun where I'm working," she replied, having been at the job for the past week since school had been out. "Dr. Ferris is great but you know that since he's been your doctor from the moment you were born. I'm really enjoying my experience there. It's interesting to see all of the people who come through his office on any given day."

"I know it can get pretty busy there, too." Then Trixie's lips twitched. She couldn't prevent the smile from splitting her mouth. "I suppose that having a certain member of my family completing an internship there makes it even more 'interesting'," she added slyly and waited expectantly for Honey's reaction.

Honey flushed a bright red as she always did when there was a mention of the handsome dark-haired Belden. Her feelings were well-known to his sister but Brian seemed to be oblivious to them. If any of the other Bob-Whites had picked up on them, they were kind enough not to remark on them. "Of course it's nice seeing a _friend _every day," she replied, stressing the word friend, and forced herself to meet Trixie's eyes.

Trixie wasn't fooled. "You know, you should probably just ask him out," she advised her quietly, picking up a stone and turning it over in her palm. "He's always been one of the slowest, most careful and cautious people that I know. You'll be eighty before he makes the first move."

Honey gritted her teeth and rolled her eyes heavenward. "I am not, I am absolutely not, going to take advice from his sister," she muttered under her breath.

Trixie laughed unrepentantly and tossed the stone over her shoulder. "I call it as I see it, Honey, you know that. He's just as crazy about you as you are about him." They were simple too overly cautious people who hadn't attempted to take the next step. Trixie couldn't figure out for the life of her why neither had tried to do that. Both seemed to be content to stay in the friendly limbo they were currently in. But they were going to see each other a lot this summer, at Dr. Ferris' office and at assorted Bob-White gatherings, so she felt that was a good start. They could be gently nudged into the next step. She wasn't above playing matchmaker. She had a feeling that Di would be more than willing to help, too.

"Just because it's worked out for you and Jim doesn't mean it would work out for us," Honey murmured quietly and a bit enviously. While she had been excited when her friend and her brother had started seeing each other two summers ago, she had also been concerned, wondering if the two would be able to withstand the pressure of being at vastly different points in their lives. There was a huge difference between high school and college, an emotional and a maturity difference, as well as the realistic physical distance, but, somehow, it hadn't seemed to affect Trixie and Jim the way she, and a few others, had thought it would. They seemed to be even more bonded than they had been before. "I already know why Brian hasn't attempted to ask me out. It's the same reason why I have never brought it up to him. What would happen if we failed in that type of relationship? Can you imagine?" Honey gave a small shudder. "It could be disastrous for all involved. It wouldn't hurt just us. It would touch all of the Bob-Whites. No, thank you. I'm not ready to risk it. At least, not yet," she amended quickly.

"Don't focus on the negatives, Honey. It could also be quite wonderful." Trixie firmly believed it. She was coming up on her second anniversary with Jim as her undeniable proof. "But you'll both be at the same college next fall. We're going to be at NYU. It's going to be an amazing year. I, for one, can't hardly wait for us to be at the same college. I've missed going to school with them."

"I'm going to overlook the fact that you brought up school again," Honey remarked pointedly. "Because you are right. It is going to be an absolutely perfect year. We're going to have five Bob-Whites at the same college. Can you imagine? We're only going to be missing out on Di and Dan."

"I wish Di had decided to go with us. I still find it hard to believe that I won't be at the same school with her for the first time ever." Trixie swallowed a disappointed sigh. She never dealt well with changes, even ones she had been prepared for. She almost couldn't comprehend a school year without Diana Lynch in it.

"Di's excited about going to Manhattan College," Honey spoke reassuringly and squeezed Trixie's hand. "She's ready to start her fine arts studies. She's very happy with her choice, you know, plus we'll be able to get together during the year. We'll make time for each other."

Trixie nodded her head. Since she couldn't force Di to come to her college, she focused on the next Bob-White. "And then there's Dan. Wouldn't it have been wonderful if he had decided to transfer to NYU from Syracuse? I mean, I know he got that amazing scholarship last year to go to Syracuse but, really, wouldn't he rather be with the rest of us, too?" She dropped the rest of the twigs to the ground and tried not to look as forlorn as she felt. In her perfect world everyone would be together as much as they possibly could, without pesky things like scholarships and first-choices getting in the way.

Honey dropped an arm around her best friend's shoulder. "I already said that we'll get together as much as we can. We may even be able to squeeze in a trip to hang out with Dan, possibly two or three. Who knows? Plus there will be Thanksgiving break, that wonderful time off from college in-between semesters that we have envied the boys for the longest time, and you can't forget Spring Break, as well as that long, endless summer again. If that's not enough, we can keep in contact by phone, text, and email. We're not going to lose contact, Trix. Not with anyone. We're much too close for that to ever happen."

"I know it's silly and juvenile of me to feel like this," Trixie admitted with a small sigh. "I guess I like it best when everyone's together. I don't like it when we're apart."

"Well, look on the bright side. You'll be with your brothers!" Honey exclaimed with a cheerful smile and a laugh she couldn't quite hide.

"I don't mind going to the same school with Brian. I doubt I'll have any classes with him. But, Mart? Three years of underclassmen learning that I need to share with Mart?" Trixie gave an exaggerated shiver. While she hadn't been pressured into going to NYU by either her brothers or her parents, she had overheard a fateful conversation one evening during the fall. Her parents had been discussing how much financial aid the college offered families with siblings that were enrolled there and how much the extra assistance would help them with three children in college. Well-aware of the sky-rocketing cost of the upper education system, Trixie had decided then and there that NYU was the place for her, too. She couldn't overlook the amount of financial assistance that had come her family's way. "I can't wait," she added dryly.

"You'll have me there with you so I can counteract anything that Mart dishes out to you," Honey declared encouragingly. Then a teasing gleam entered her eyes, preparing Trixie for what was coming next. "And, of course, there's also the remaining Bob-White we haven't talked about. Jim will be there, too."

Trixie tried not to let a silly smile work its way across her face but failed, as she always did when Jim's name was brought up. The thought of being at the same school with him was definitely exciting, especially when they wouldn't be under the watchful eyes of her parents. She could fail to notice the presence of her older brothers, if she tried hard enough. Mart would most likely be busy with his coursework, as well as maintaining his relationship with the lovely Diana Lynch. That left her oldest brother to worry about, who also, regrettably, happened to be her boyfriend's roommate. School would keep him busy, too. It would also be nice if he had a girlfriend to keep him even more occupied. She eyed Honey speculatively but didn't bring it up again, not wanting to embarrass her for a second time that morning.

Honey lifted her brows when Trixie didn't respond. She looked curiously at her friend, saw the far-away look on her face, and gave her a gentle nudge, aware of the mental path Trixie was currently on. "Hey, Trix, it's starting to get hot. We should probably get the horses back. Do you have to work today?" Honey had her weekends free. She followed the normal Monday-Friday schedule at the doctor's office.

"Not today. I'm scheduled off," Trixie answered after she pushed herself off the ground and dusted off her worn blue jeans. "I go in tomorrow morning. I get to do something even better tonight than working at Mr. Lytell's store."

Honey caught Lady's reins and patted her on the back before she swung gracefully back on the serene horse. "What do you have to do tonight, Trix?"

"I get to Bobby-watch," she answered with an exaggerated shudder. "Everyone else seemed to be too busy. My parents are actually going out to dinner. I can't remember the last time the two of them did something on their own, without one of us going along for the ride. Then Mart made plans to take Di out to the movies. Brian must have realized that it was coming down to him or me pretty quickly because he set up plans with Dan to hang out tonight at the cabin before I even caught an inkling of what was going on. I was left out in the cold. Therefore…"

"You get to stay home with Bobby," Honey finished for her and gave her a comforting look. "Do you want company?"

Trixie's sudden flush had nothing to do with the heat of the day. She tried to hide it by walking around Susie but she couldn't fool Honey. She sidestepped the invitation as politely as she could and explained haltingly, "Ah, well, you see, Jim's already coming over."

"Enough said," Honey replied understandingly, with the tact that she was legendary for, and without an ounce of disappointment to her voice. She waited until Trixie was back on Susie and then urged Lady back towards the path they had taken. "So, you and Jim get to watch over Bobby tonight."

Trixie shook her head quickly. "That's not all, Honey. We have to throw Larry Lynch into the mix, too. We have to consider ourselves lucky since Terry developed an early summer cold. His mother called this morning. He won't be able to come over tonight." Trixie tried not to think about the trouble the two boys could get into and was pathetically grateful she didn't have to be responsible for three preteens.

Honey decided that she would probably spend the evening sorting out the pictures from graduation and putting them into photo albums. "I'll wish you luck with your night, Trix."

Trixie shrugged her shoulder. "Really, it's not going to be that bad. Bobby and Larry will either hole up in his room or in the den. I can already see it now. They're going to end up watching movies all night or playing each other on one of their game systems. Other than having to check on them to make sure that they're both still breathing, it's not going to be that difficult of a night. I doubt it will be fun but I'm not dreading it."

And you'll get to spend time with Jim, Honey thought quietly but didn't voice it. She followed Trixie back down the path and bit back a small sigh. With Trixie and Jim, and now Mart and Di, pairing off, it made her seriously consider if it was going to be time for her and Brian to give it a try. Trixie had said it was wonderful. She believed Di would feel the same way. Maybe it was something to consider, Honey mused to herself.

When they rounded a bend in the path, Trixie stopped and pointed in the direction of the clubhouse. "Oh, isn't it neat? You can just make out the roof of our clubhouse from here. Do you remember the last time we were all in it? It had to have been ages ago."

Not ages ago. December. Honey smiled at the memory of the annual Christmas party they continued to hold at the clubhouse each year. "We should set up a party in it, for old time's sake," Honey said with a laugh. "Maybe next Saturday?"

About to agree, Trixie had to give a vehement shake of her head. "No, not next Saturday. That's, well, that's…" She came to a sputtering stop and then forced the words out on a rush, doing her best not to look her friend in the eye, "That's our anniversary, Honey." She wasn't sure what Jim had planned but she doubted if it had anything to do with a club get-together and five of their closest friends looking on.

Honey smothered a laugh at how Trixie looked, slightly embarrassed and exhilarated at the same time. "All right, then, we'll make it Sunday. We'll tell the others when we get back. Since I'm the only one without any plans for the evening, I'll be glad to begin planning the festivities." She turned Lady's head and called back, "Let's go, Trix!"

Trixie stayed back for a long moment, staring in the direction of the clubhouse, and remembering all of the wonderful times the seven of them had shared together in it. It was at moments like this when she felt like she was truly blessed with the best set of friends and the most wonderful family in the world. Hearing the sound of Lady's rapidly departing hooves cantering away, she turned away and began following her friend back to the stables.


	3. Chapter 3

**Breakaway**

Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Humming lightly to herself, Trixie took the porch steps two at a time and then threw the screen door wide open. It shut behind her with a loud bang and announced her arrival better than if she had yelled out at the top of her lungs that she was home. Unperturbed by the noise she had created, she bounded into the kitchen but came to an immediate halt when she caught the irritated frown her brother was aiming her way. Steeped in the inner workings of her 'almost twin's' mind, Trixie immediately understood why his displeasure was aimed at her and settled for a return scowl of her own. "Hey, Mart," she greeted him and rocked back on her heels, waiting expectantly for his reaction.

He heaved an intentionally drawn-out sigh and stared up at the ceiling, almost as if he was requesting a benediction from the heavens above them. After an extended pause, he proclaimed in a long-suffering voice that was meant to irk and successfully did so, "Why, oh why, did I have to be saddled with the most rampaging hooligan ever created as a feminine sibling? No decorum, no style, no restraint. All she possesses is a penchant towards impulsivity and recklessness. Little does she know that those personality trends are going to get her into even more trouble than she's already experienced someday." Palms out, he shook his head sadly and pretended to wipe away an imaginary tear, he added with fake despondency, "And to think that our parents have worked incredibly hard to attempt to instill the tiniest bit of proper etiquette into her and all for naught. Our parents would be extremely disappointed in you. What a shame, Beatrix, what a shame." He heaved out another long breath and glanced down at the floor with mock despair.

Trixie let his foolishness roll off of her. For the use of her despised first name, she reached behind her and slammed the screen door shut again, simply to provoke him, and bit back a chuckle when he slanted another furious look her way. "Don't mind me, Mart," she said with a cheeky grin that only managed to annoy him further and strode towards the refrigerator, pleased with herself. It wasn't often that she managed to come out on top with her quarrelsome (yet extremely well-loved) brother. She pulled out a bottle of water, decided that it was her sisterly duty to exasperate him even more, and turned to face him. When she was certain that she had his undivided attention, she took an intentional greedy sip out of it. Swiping a hand across her mouth to wipe off some of the water that had dribbled out, she added with more cheer than was necessary, "I just came from riding with Honey. It's starting to get hot out again, you know."

Blue eyes narrowed, Mart sat back down at the table in a huff, a pile of mail sitting in front of him, and tried his best to not let her silly antics get to him. Watching her closely, he intentionally slid a letter postmarked to her at the bottom of the pile. He would make certain that she got the letter she had been waiting anxiously for, but, in his extremely helpful older brother way, he would give it to her later. All's fair in their ongoing, and extremely enjoyable, sibling war, he thought with a small shrug and mentally prepared himself to set her up for the fall. "So, tell me, squaw, how is our fair neighbor doing this morning?"

Plopping her half full water bottle on the table, Trixie took the seat next to him and fanned her face with her hand. It was already starting to get hot in the house. She glanced at the swirling overhead fan and wished that the farmhouse had been equipped with central air, like the Manor House and the Lynch home. But she knew she could just as easily been wishing for a dishwasher or a luxurious pool in the backyard. It wasn't going to happen. "Honey is doing fine. We had a fun ride together this morning. It was a good thing we went out early. It's already starting to get hot," she finally answered after Mart nudged her with his elbow. "She also enjoyed her first week of work at Dr. Ferris' office."

"Speaking of summer jobs…" He left the rest unsaid and had to bit his bottom lip to keep from releasing a loud snort of laughter. Relatively sure that he had his amusement under control, he posed his next question with only a slight tremor to his voice, "And how did you survive your first week with Mr. Lytell?"

Trixie couldn't help but grin back at him and couldn't hold back her delighted giggles. "Surprisingly well, believe it or not. I told Honey earlier that I think that Mr. Lytell and I have figured out how to work well together, especially considering our rather stormy history. We simply avoid each other. He hasn't come in when I've been working at the store. I return the favor. I don't go in when he's there. Luckily for me, he hasn't been able to stop by the store that much. He's been too busy recovering from his knee surgery. When you realize that we haven't actually had to converse or even see each other face to face, we're actually getting along just fine. We haven't had any problems." _Yet _hung unspoken in the air between them.

Mart still had difficulty comprehending that the grouchy store-owner had voluntarily offered a job to his sister, even with the added knowledge that she had been a huge help to him after he had fallen in his store. It was an unexpected twist of fate that he found highly amusing. He had stopped in at least once a day during the past week, sometimes more if his schedule allowed it, to visit his sister, on the off chance that Mr. Lytell would be there, too. He wanted to witness for himself how the two were getting along. The cynical part of him wondered how long Trixie would last at the job before she either quit or Mr. Lytell ended up firing her. If they managed to stay out of each other's way and not have to communicate at all, as they had been able to successfully do for the entire first week, she may make it there the whole summer but he wasn't about to put any money down on it. He knew his sister too well. And he also knew how Mr. Lytell felt towards his sister. He believed that he was being extremely generous and gave her two weeks before something happened between them and the two less-than-amicably went their separate ways. Thinking about the more than likely outcome, he inquired carefully, "Have you, ah, looked into any other possibilities just in case working at Mr. Lytell's doesn't work out for you?"

Trixie covered her mouth with her hand and shook her head, sending her short blonde curls off on a quick dance. "I don't go back on my word, Mart. Unless he fires me, I'm not leaving. I can assure you that I'm not going to do anything to get fired. So far, so good. I hope it will continue to be that way."

Mart didn't point out the obvious. She had only been working there for a week, a week where Mr. Lytell hadn't wanted to leave his house except to attend his physical therapy sessions. He hoped she still felt that way when he was back to his spry, meddlesome self and started poking his nose back into his store but he didn't share his suspicions with her, deciding to let his baby sister have her illusions. "It's a shame that you didn't get the student job that was advertised at the police station," he remarked instead.

It had been the only summer job she had applied for before being offered the surprising one by Mr. Lytell. Even then, she had known that she hadn't had that much of a chance of getting it. Using her extremely overactive imagination, she could see Sergeant Molinson either ripping her application into tiny pieces the second it had come across his desk or taking it outside and using it for target practice. Either way, she hadn't been surprised to find out she hadn't been offered the job. "I didn't pin any hopes on that one," she hastened to assure him. "Not with my rather, ah, interesting history, shall we say, with Sergeant Molinson. Do you really think that the sergeant would have wanted me, of all people, underfoot at the police station, day in and day out, for the entire summer?" Her low chuckle was aimed entirely at herself. "Yeah, I was ready for a negative, even as I was in the process of completing the application."

Sergeant Molinson would have had to have been out of his mind to hire the most impulsive and the most inquisitive person in all of Sleepyside, Mart thought but wisely kept his opinions to himself. "Does it bother you that Dan got the job?" he wondered instead and watched her closely. He didn't believe his sister was harboring any ill-feelings towards their close friend but he hadn't had the opportunity to ask her about it.

Dan had been extremely apologetic and had offered to turn it down once he had realized that Trixie had applied for the same position. She hadn't let him, had insisted that he keep it, and had finally managed to convince him that she knew she had never really had a chance for it anyway. The sergeant needed his sanity to complete his job. He wouldn't have had much with her hanging out at the station. He probably would have gone certifiably insane within the first few days of her employment there. "Not at all," she replied, her words ringing with the truth of her feelings. "I should have realized that I would never have been considered for the job and that even the act of filling out the paperwork had been a waste of my time. As you're well aware, there's been a little too much history between the sergeant and me."

"Do you think so?" Mart shot back with an innocent smile.

She considered it a sign that she had matured because she didn't roll her eyes at his dry tone and continued on, "And it's also excellent experience for Dan. He's the one that wants to become a police officer after he graduates from college, not me. I still plan on becoming a private detective. I think the job will come in much handier for him than it would ever have for me."

"I'm glad that's settled, then. Now we need to get on to more important matters." He picked up a letter and tapped it on the top of the dark wooden table. "The mail has already arrived, Trix," he announced in the remote chance she hadn't already spotted the small pile of letters laid out in front of him.

A little surprised by the abrupt change in conversation, she stood up and remarked easily, "It always comes early on Saturdays." Heading over to the counter, she picked up the old-fashioned brown cookie jar that had managed to survive the combined childhood years of three overly rambunctious blonde Beldens, as well as a quieter dark-haired Belden, with only a few cracks and one small piece of ceramic missing from it, and brought it over to the table. "Hmm," she announced after opening the lid and inhaling the sweet smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. "It looks like Moms was busy this morning. These smell delicious." Knowing that he would never be able to pass up a dessert of any size, shape or form, she thoughtfully offered him the first one.

Instantly intrigued, he reached out and accepted the cookie. He nearly had it finished before Trixie could replace the lid on the jar. "Another one, Trix," he said, holding his hand out to her.

She got a good look at him. A few crumbs were residing on his chin and there was another small set on the table. She had to stifle a chuckle. "And you say I'm the one our parents should be ashamed of," she remarked to the air at large and handed him her cookie.

Not embarrassed in the least, he offered her a jaunty salute and accepted the next cookie with a flourish. "As a reward for your willingness to gift me with a cookie before taking one for yourself, I will be more than delighted to offer you a letter that the mail truck dropped off for you on this lovely Saturday morning."

Thinking of the letter she had been anxiously awaiting to arrive for the past few weeks, Trixie watched with curiosity as he handed one over to her. She flipped it over and eagerly read the return address, only to have her hopes dashed. It wasn't the one she had been looking for. One glance at his face made her see that he knew it. "Really, Mart," she chided him, not so gently, "I'm not a big fan of junk mail. And I really, really, really don't want to apply for a credit card right now, no matter how good the rate is on it, thank you very much."

Stroking his chin, he took back the letter and made a big show of checking it over. "Well, it would seem that I have managed to make a mistake," he announced dramatically and with a twinkle to his eyes that had her gritting her teeth. "This isn't the letter I wanted to give you. I already know that its contents are destined to head for the paper shredder, anyway, which is probably the exact same place Sergeant Molinson sent your application. No, there has to be another letter in this pile that is ear-marked especially for one Beatrix Belden."

This time she did roll her eyes and sent up a small prayer for patience that she didn't expect to be answered. Older brothers could be really trying at times, especially when they had been gifted with blonde hair, blue eyes and a silver tongue. "What's the real letter you meant to give me?"

Pasting another smile on his handsome face, he handed her the next one in his hands. "Here, Trix. I think this is the one that you want."

She caught the name on it and released a frustrated groan. "Mart!" she complained loudly and dropped back in her seat in a huff, with her arms crossed over her chest. "Honestly! This letter isn't even for me. It's addressed to our parents. It's the electric bill."

He made a big production out of accepting the letter back and verifying the information. "Oh, so it is. Looks like I was wrong again. So sorry, Trix." He voice sounded sincere but there wasn't an ounce of apology in his expression.

She couldn't miss the barely contained amusement on his face and leaned back in her chair, her cookie lying untouched on the cheerful sunflower placemat. "What's the next letter, Mart?" she inquired, not even offering to take it when he held it out to her. "And make sure you check who it's for before you give it to me. I have serious doubts that it's going to be addressed to me."

He didn't seem bothered by the fact that she didn't trust him to give her the right letter. "Well, this one is for a Mr. Brian Belden. Do you happen to know him? It looks like he could already be the winner of a million dollars," he shared in an aside that had her growling back at him. Undeterred, he continued on, taking great pains to read the next letter in his hands, "And this one is another bill for our parents. It's the phone bill this time. It looks like Aunt Alicia has sent Moms her monthly letter. She still believes in the primitive form of letter-writing, don't you know. Email and texts don't exist for our Aunt Alicia. It's letters and phone calls for her," he informed her in case she wasn't aware of it.

Trixie didn't care about her aunt's time honored but old-fashioned ways of communicating. She resisted the urge to scream. Barely. The red beginning to stain her cheeks had nothing to do with the heat of the June day. "I'm almost out of patience, Mart, and you're almost out of letters. Who is the last one for?"

Man, he enjoyed riling her up. He was going to love having her at the same college with him. While he would never, ever, have admitted it out loud, and certainly not in anyone else's presence, especially hers, he had missed her more than he had thought possible during his freshman year at college. It hadn't seemed right to not have her underfoot. "Let's see, let's see, who could this letter be for?" he muttered teasingly, being sure to hold the object high and out of her reach. "I could read it so much better if someone wasn't trying to sit in my lap," he muttered as she tried to reach over him to get the letter.

"Come on, Mart!" she exploded and made one more desperate attempt to get the letter. She nearly succeeded but ended up slipping and falling into edge of the table. Frustrated, she blew out a breath at a wayward curl, glared at him and ended back in her chair.

From his position in the doorway, Brian caught the tail end of the scene and found an older brother's amusement in it. As far as he was concerned, the two were never going to change, would probably still be bickering and squabbling when they were old and gray. Choosing not to announce his presence, he sauntered in on sneakered feet and swiped the envelope out of Mart's hand before he had a chance to hide it and then presented it to their sister. "Here you go, Trix," he told her solemnly, aiming a satisfied smirk for his younger brother.

Mart's mouth dropped into a round O of astonishment. It took him a full minute to regain his voice. "What was that, Brian?" he complained, slapping a hand against his knee, his face a portrait of pure disgruntlement. "Why did you have to go and give her the letter? You ruined the fun."

"No, I didn't. I probably saved your life," Brian countered smoothly. "She was getting ready to go for blood, Mart."

Arms folded, with a petulant expression on his face, as well as a healthy dose of embarrassment at being caught in the art of teasing their sister, an art that he admittedly excelled at, Mart grumbled defensively under his breath, "I was getting ready to give her the letter."

"In about five minutes. Most likely after she bloodied your nose or found some other tender spot on your body to attack," Brian answered, only half-joking. Then he turned to their sister, who had been uncharacteristically silent during their conversation. Eyebrows drawn together, she was staring at the letter with a bewildered expression on her face. Instantly alert, he was at her side in a heartbeat. "Trix? Are you okay? What's in the letter?"

Ignoring Mart, she smiled gratefully at him but waved away his concern, although her eyes continued to swirl with confusion. "I'm fine, Brian, just a little…surprised, I guess. It wasn't quite what I was expecting to find out, that's all." Tilting her head to the side, she offered it to Brian. "Read it. See if you think it says the same thing that I think it does."

Brian took the letter and started reading, ignoring Mart who came to stand behind him so that he could find out what it said, too. The contents didn't sink in the first time so he went back and reread it carefully. "It is rather… unusual," he finally said for lack of a better word.

"I hesitate to use this word because it could be synonymous with mysterious and someone in this room, who shall remain nameless, believes that she is the queen of all things mysterious, but peculiar is how I would describe the contents of your letter," Mart interjected, his eyebrows drawn together in surprise, and all traces of his recent amusement wiped away. He didn't like the contents of the letter, not one bit, and stared at his sister, hard, hoping that she wouldn't even think of considering the generous but restricted offer inside. It came with too big of a condition, as far as he was concerned, and he was absolutely not going to allow his sister accept it. He desperately searched for something to say to deter her from even considering the offer.

"I can understand being awarded the smaller scholarship," Trixie said, the words coming out slowly. "Especially since it's what I was hoping to get when I applied for the scholarship a while ago. It could help out with a few expenses during each year while I'm at NYU. Every little bit helps, as both of you know after spending some time at college." Then her frown grew deeper and the blue of her eyes grew darker. "I never expected to get a full scholarship, anywhere. My grades certainly weren't that good and I'm not even going to bring up my pathetic SAT scores." She shuddered in remembered pain of taking the infamous test. The pain of that day had only been surpassed by the moment when she had received her test scores. She had been forced to take them again, with only a minimally better outcome.

"It doesn't always come down to grades," Mart spoke up quickly in her defense. "You've certainly done more community services projects and helped out more law enforcement agencies than the typical high school graduate. What bothers me is why you would only be eligible for the full scholarship if you decided to change schools at this late date and go to CU. It seems to me that you should be eligible for the full scholarship wherever you went. It should follow you, not the other way around. I hesitate to use this word in your presence but I find the whole matter rather curious." He shared a look of puzzlement with his brother. "Have you ever heard of such a thing, Brian?"

"Scholarships can often have limits placed onto them. We all know I could lose mine to NYU if I didn't keep up a certain grade point average." But he shook his head, as bewildered as the rest of them. "So it's not out of the realm of possibility that the committee would only award you with the full scholarship if you choose to attend California University. It may very well be that the scholarship committee is affiliated with the university or it may be just as simple as it is stated in this letter." He jabbed a finger at the line that informed them that California University had the best and most progressive criminal justice program in the nation. After waiting a few seconds, he dredged up the courage to ask the question that was going through both their minds, "What are you going to do about it, Trix?"

Trixie swiftly put an end to her strain of curiosity. The why of it didn't matter to her, not when she didn't have any intentions of leaving the state, or of accepting the full scholarship to a university she had no inclination of attending. "I can actually say with one hundred percent certainty that I don't care why they made such an odd offer to me. I'm not going to take the full scholarship. There is absolutely no way I'm trading in New York for California. New York is home. California is not."

Mart released a pent-up breath he hadn't realized he had been holding in, relieved to hear the words coming from his sister, and slapped her on the shoulder. "Good for you, Trix. I can't say that I want you to fly all the way across the country, either. You may be a pain but you're our pain. It wouldn't be the same without you here."

Brian reread the small black words for a third time before placing the letter down on the counter. "You have two weeks to let them know what your decision is, Trix," he pointed out soberly. "You'll need to call the committee with your choice before the allotted time is up. Otherwise, both offers will be negated."

"I don't need two weeks. I don't even need two minutes," she answered quickly and with a sparkle to her blue eyes. "A full ride to California University isn't going to do me much good. I'm off to college with the two of you in the fall." Although she had to admit to herself that it felt good, amazingly good, to have been the recipient of such a generous offer. But the flattery wouldn't make her accept it, not when she would have to move away from her family and friends. And Jim. If she went to CU, she wouldn't be able to see him, not on as consistent a basis as she needed to. The full ride didn't even come close to the people she loved most in the world. There was simply no way she could ever leave them, not even for such a lucrative offer. Putting the matter aside, thankful to at least have a little more money coming her way to assist with the high cost of schooling, she jumped up from her seat and announced, "I have to go check with Moms and see if she has any more chores for me to do today. She let me off early to go for riding with Honey. I'll see both of you later!"

Mart and Brian watched her bound out of the room and then looked at each other. "It's a good thing she wasn't tempted to take that offer," Mart mumbled to his older brother, seeing the same sense of relief reflected in the dark eyes staring back at him. "I really wouldn't like the thought of her taking up residence all the way across the country and on the opposite coast."

"Me, neither." Brian smoothed away the frown that had settled on his forehead and decided not to think about it any longer. It was obvious to him that Trixie had more than made her choice. She wasn't even going to consider the offer. She was staying with them. "Do you want something to eat or drink?"

"For some reason I don't have much of an appetite right now." Mart shook his head and missed the incredulous look aimed his way. With the discarded envelope in his hand, he stood up and headed over to the counter where he picked up the letter and read it again. He didn't like it, not one bit, and felt an odd sort of tingle run up and down his spine. He had to keep telling himself that she wasn't going, that she was, in fact, refusing the offer. "Thank goodness," he murmured under his breath, refolded the letter and placed it back in its envelope. He had one fanciful thought that it would be best for all of them to throw the damn thing out before he shook it away and reluctantly put it back on the counter, where Trixie could find it when she needed to place her call. Without another word, he turned on his heels and strode from the room, still slightly unsettled and concerned.

Brian watched him go. As the eldest he had learned at a young age how to school his features and had developed the ability to hide his emotions from his younger siblings. He let the twin feelings of worry and concern show for a moment as he stared at his brother's rapidly departing back. He wasn't pleased by the offer either, not because he didn't have all of the faith in the world in his sister, but because he didn't find the condition of the full scholarship appealing in the least. "California," he mumbled under his breath in the same tone one would reserve for the strongest of swear words. Then he downed his glass of juice and did his best to put the matter behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Three

The deep-throated shriek of encouragement followed by an extremely loud thud that came in the general direction of Bobby's bedroom made her shudder in dismay. Gritting her teeth, not wanting to know what the terrible twosome could be getting into, Trixie hurried over to the staircase and called up to them, hoping that she had enough authority in her voice to make them listen to her, "Keep it under control, Bobby! Moms and Dad aren't going to be happy if either you or Larry break something up there. You'll be grounded!" And their parents wouldn't be happy with her if she had to bring one or both of them to the hospital with a broken bone. She only got an incoherent yell back but, when she didn't hear another loud noise, she figured the two had ended whatever game they had been playing and left her post by the stairs. She really didn't want to know what mischief they were getting into upstairs. The possibilities were mind-boggling.

Not only was the kitchen was much quieter and immensely more peaceful, it was nowhere near the vicinity of Bobby's bedroom. Standing in the open doorway to the kitchen, she toed out of her flip-flops, unconsciously placed them off to the side where no one would trip over them as she had been taught to do when she was a toddler, and felt safe from the chaos that the two hellions could create. The sense of relief she breathed in was heavenly until she realized how silent it was in the normally bustling room, the core of the Belden household. Needing some noise, controlled noise, not the kind that was perpetuated by two almost teenagers, she flicked on the radio. The latest from Lady Antebellum poured out, making her smile. She loved the song. _American Honey_. The title always made her think of her best friend on the hill. It served as a nice backdrop for the tranquil room, making her feel more comfortable and less concerned about the two boys upstairs. Knowing it was time to start looking into the options for dinner, she went to the refrigerator and began pulling out the greens to make the salad. Once she had what she needed laid out on the kitchen counter, she began the soothing task of running the vegetables under the cool tap water, and started to sing along to the song, her body moving with the music.

Whistling softly under his breath, Jim made the porch steps in one eager leap, more than ready to spend the evening with his extremely special girl, and then knocked lightly on the open screen door. When he didn't receive an answer, he pushed it open and looked around the kitchen, spotting her immediately. He took a moment to admire the sight of her at the sink, grinning at the way she was singing with the music. He couldn't help but notice that she was extremely off-key, as well as pitchy. The sounds she was making could hardly be termed melodious. It was really too sweet. He knew what he felt for her had to real, for him to be able to take pleasure in the sound of her rather pitiful singing voice. _American Idol _wouldn't be sending her to Hollywood, he thought with a small grin twisting his lips. Tuning out her singing, he began a slow and very methodical perusal of her. He didn't miss a thing, starting at the top of her short blonde curls which were more untamed than normal, due to the extra humidity in the air, and then moving on to the tanned shoulders covered only with the pencil thin straps of her blue cotton tank top. His appreciative eyes traveled down to the hips that were moving in perfect time to the beat of the current song on the radio, noticing the way the worn denim of her shorts moved with her. He refused to feel bad about staring at that particular area for longer than was necessary. In fact, his smile only grew a little more wicked, a little more knowing, and a whole lot bigger. But then he forced himself to leave the area and skimmed his eyes down her toned legs, taking in the small birthmark on the back of her left knee that he found undeniably sexy, and finally ending at her bare feet. Swallowing back a sigh that was almost pained, he figured he was in extremely deep and well past the point of no return when even the sight of her bare and unpainted toes could affect him. The satisfied glint in his eyes told him that there wasn't any other place that he would rather be.

After another quick glance showed him that they were alone and that her young charges were nowhere in sight, he gently guided the door behind him, ever so carefully and cautiously, so as not to make the tiniest bit of noise. Holding his breath, he waited for the longest second when it closed with only the slightest click but she didn't even move, only stayed at the sink, and continued her chore of washing the vegetables. With one lip turned up, he walked stealthily towards her, bypassing a chair that someone had forgotten to push in at the table, until he was standing right behind her.

Reaching for the tomato, completely unaware of her fascinated audience behind her or the fact that she was not alone in the kitchen anymore, she hummed out the last of the song and carefully washed off the tomato. The cool water felt good, helping to alleviate some of the sweltering heat of the summer evening. She brought a wet hand up and brushed back a curl from her forehead, only to let out a tiny squeal when she felt two hands catch hold of her waist. "Jim!" she let out, knowing who it was before she even got a look at him, and amazed that she hadn't been able to hear him enter the kitchen. Turning her head to the side, she caught his amused face out of the corner of her eye and said, "I didn't hear you come in."

"But you figured out who it was quick enough," he murmured into her ear, raising her body temperature even further than the summer heat, and pulled her flush against his body, cuddling her against him. He wasn't surprised that she had realized who it was, even without seeing him. Over the years the two seemed to have developed a sixth sense for the other. "By the way, I liked the show."

She blushed, realizing he must have seen (and, worse, heard) her and dropped her head against his chest. "I, ah…oh, woe," she stammered, a bit embarrassed, and then settled for a small chuckle that made his grin grow even bigger.

He pressed a feather-light kiss to her neck and tightened his hold on her from behind, pleased that they had managed to have some alone time together. With the combined size of their friends and family, it wasn't often that they were able to pull off the remarkable and actually carve out some of the coveted private time. A small bump from upstairs made him remember that they weren't as alone as he would like them to be. When he didn't hear any more sounds from above, he increased his hold on her. "Do you need help with the salad?" he asked innocently but he didn't make a move to assist her. Instead, he blew a warm breath of air into her ear.

Feeling the familiar tingles start to pool in her stomach and then spread out in all directions to each and every extremity she possessed, Trixie figured it was a good thing when she didn't dissolve into a small, weeping puddle at his feet. "Somehow I don't think you would be that great of an asset to me right now, Mr. Frayne," she managed to get out in a dry but breathless tone.

"You could be right about that, Miss Belden," he chuckled softly and without the least bit of regret. She could always see through him while he always had a hard time getting much past her, unless she wanted him to. With a fatalistic shrug he figured that's what happened when one happened to fall in love with an extremely curious and gifted aspiring detective. Gripping her waist, he turned her around, wanting to see her from the front, and unrepentantly taking her away from her chore. He loved the way her blue eyes widened and seemed to turn darker. He heard the sharp, indrawn breath she took, almost as if she needed to get one last intake of air if she wanted to survive what he intended to do with her. And then there was the rosy flush that blossomed beautifully in each cheek. He knew she hated it; she had told him that on more than one occasion. But she had no clue of the effect it had on him, how it made her seem so much softer and even sweeter to him, or how much he loved to make her flush deepen and darken from the pretty pink to the vibrant red. Satisfied that he had her right where he wanted her, between him and the unmoving counter behind her, he brought his emerald green eyes back towards her. Due to no fault of their own, it had been too long since the last time they had been able to kiss. They each felt the excitement swirled with urgency, both in their bodies as well as in the air around them.

She watched, fascinated, as his lips came closer and closer to hers. The tomato fell from her useless hand to land on the counter the second after his mouth touched hers, gently at first and then with a slow, increasing pressure that made her want to sigh and scream at the same time. She did neither and settled for kissing him back instead, with the right amount of sweetness that counteracted his rising passion perfectly. Her hands immediately wound their way around his back, almost of their own accord, holding him to her as closely as the larger hands that were running up and down her back, and then finding refuge in the short hair that ended in a clean, crisp line above the nape of his neck. It always amazed her, the way he could make her feel. It was like he had some kind of a magic wand and could turn her into someone more than what she knew herself to be. The ache his touch created with seemingly such little effort was so incredibly pleasing and was paired with a longing she finally understood after what should have been a normally memorable night in any high school student's life had became even more poignant and unforgettable for her, as well as for him.

He didn't have any regrets about that fateful prom night over a month ago, even if did put an irreversible tear in the cloak of honorableness he had worn for much too long. The fall had been exhilarating, touching and deliciously delightful, without a hint of remorse or guilt to taint it, and bringing with it such a feeling of peace and of completeness, more so because it involved the person he intended to share the rest of his life with. Thinking about that night, as well as a few other stolen moments between then and now where even their heartbeats had managed to beat out the exact same rhythm, he deepened the kiss even further, tongue against tongue, preparing to enjoy their evening tryst for as long as they possibly could, only to be brought up short by the sound of rapid footsteps pounding down the stairs.

"Gleeps!" she exclaimed, her eyes flaring wide and her mouth falling into an oval of shock. Trixie pulled back first, her face a portrait of unresolved pleasure, before she hastily pulled herself out of his arms with an apologetic look and then turned back to the sink. Trying to get her breathing to resume to normal, she used the few seconds afforded her before they were descended upon by two-thirds of an unholy triumvirate to hastily take up her chore of making the salad and squeezed her eyes shut, doing everything she possibly could to put what had just transpired between them out of her mind.

Jim reluctantly moved away and found refuge against the kitchen counter, stuffing his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her and took a series of deep breaths himself to help calm the storm that wanted to be released within his veins. He did his best to look anywhere but at her. He wasn't strong enough, was sure he would lose his control if he so much as caught a glimpse of her right now. Praying that he had succeeded in regaining a semblance of his control, he turned to face the doorway when the two boys burst through it.

Completely unaware of what they had interrupted, Bobby came to a sudden stop and gestured towards Larry, a sullen expression on his face. He looked up at the ceiling and held his hands out, unconsciously adopting his older brother's Mart pose of a few hours earlier. "See, Larry? I told you the other cop would be here by now."

Larry only shook his head in dismay and took a seat at the kitchen table. "It's hard to believe that your parents would want to have one adult and one semi-adult to watch over us."

Back to normal, Trixie whipped her head towards the young Lynch. "Semi-adult, Larry?" she questioned playfully and winked at Jim. "I assume that would be me, right?"

"No offense, Trixie," he answered quickly. "I refer to my sister as that, too."

Di had shared her brother's odd endearment for her on more than one occasion. "I won't be offended then," she informed him with a small giggle. "I take it you two are hungry and that's why you have left the confines of my youngest brother's bedroom?" When they nodded, she pointed to the refrigerator. "Moms left us cold stuff for dinner tonight. It's much too hot to cook. I'm just about finished with the salad if you're interested in having a bowl. Otherwise, you can help yourself to anything in there."

Both boys jumped at once, attacking the poor appliance with a vengeance as they foraged for their dinner, and making Trixie realize her mistake immediately. She sent Jim a withering look for chuckling at her but knew she was completely unable to correct it. She watched them under her lashes as she finished the toss salad and had to laugh at their chosen dinner of cold pasta salad, a jar of pickles, a jar of olives, and two cans of soda. It wasn't appealing to her in the least although she suspected Mart would have enjoyed the combination immensely.

"Can we eat in the den?" Bobby asked after he put the food on the table and filled two paper plates with the odd mixture. He pulled out a bag of potato chips from the cupboard and added it to the unappetizing meal. "We want to watch a movie now."

She visibly shuddered when Larry grabbed a container of spicy mustard out of the refrigerator, wondering what on earth he was going to add that to, before she answered, "Yeah, I don't see why not. But you're both going to have to clean up your mess in there. Moms doesn't expect me to pick up after you anymore, you know. You're responsible enough for that on your own. You'll have to face her wrath if the room isn't spotless when she comes home."

With twin grins, they gathered up what they believed consisted of a fantastic meal, and then were gone in a flash, leaving the kitchen in a bit of a shambles and Trixie and Jim staring after them in shock. "Are you certain you want to spend a good part of the summer with boys in that age range?" she wondered aloud, gifting her boyfriend with an inquisitive look, and began the process of putting away the leftover jars. She left the pasta salad out. It was the one thing that looked appealing. "It doesn't sound like much fun to me."

"It's at times like this when I wonder myself," he answered with his lopsided grin and grabbed two bowls for them from the cupboard.

"When do you have to head back into the City for your training?" she asked, more to make conversation than anything else, and to keep herself from doing something stupid like continuing something that they shouldn't be continuing, not with two preteens only a few rooms away. She already knew his answer, had confirmed the information to memory the second he had given it to her during the middle of his spring semester at college, but she wanted to hear it again.

"I have to see my supervisor in a week and a half," he answered with a tone of regret to his voice. Accepting the internship had seemed like a great idea at the time. Five weeks apart hadn't seemed like a big deal. Then. Now, with his departure looming ahead of them like a large gray thundercloud, he was starting to realize how big of a deal it was. He found himself caught in that difficult place between gaining valuable experience for his school and the overwhelming need to spend as much time as possible with his girlfriend. "That's in two Wednesdays. I'll be there for the rest of that week and then, on Saturday, I'll meet the boys who were accepted into the program. Then we'll travel up to that camp in upstate New York. It's going to be a lot of fun." He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince more; him or her.

She wasn't looking forward to it. Her small pout told him that more than any words ever could. But she absolutely refused to be one of those clinging, cloying girlfriends who wouldn't allow their significant others to participate in other things that didn't involve them. She would make it through, as would he, and they would more than make up for lost time when he was back in Sleepyside. "Then you'll come back home, right?" she asked needlessly.

"I'll be able to come home for another week before I have to do the same thing all over again," he answered quickly. "We get to take two sets of inner-city boys camping this year. My supervisor wanted to do three sets but he couldn't get the funding for the third trip." He leaned towards her and admitted huskily, "I have to admit that I wasn't upset that he wasn't able to get the third trip. When it comes to spending time with you, I'm becoming rather selfish, I'm afraid."

She understood the feeling perfectly and told him with a quick kiss on his cheek. "Don't I know it," she answered back throatily.

He felt the simple kiss all the way to his toes and wondered how the hell he was going to make it through the two camping trips without her. Clearing his throat, he added, "I'll end up being gone for five weeks in all this summer. We'll have about three weeks together after I come back. Then it will be time for our fall semester to start up."

Choosing NYU really hadn't been a hardship for her, not when he was already there. She loved the way he referred to it as 'our' fall semester. "I think I can do without you for a few weeks this summer, then. Only a few, mind you, especially since we'll have that lovely week break in-between your camping sessions, as well as those three weeks you've promised me after your last session," she said, mischievously shaking the salad tongs at him. "It also helps that we will be together for the entire school year, at the exact same school, for the first time in a really, really, long time."

His arms wound their way around her again and he gave her a hard kiss on her lips, with one sharp eye on the kitchen doorway. The den wasn't too far away, making any more passionate overtures extremely dangerous, definitely inadvisable and very foolhardy. He didn't want to give either Bobby Belden or Larry Lynch blackmail material. Looking down at Trixie, he could tell that she didn't, either. He took the salad tongs from her suddenly boneless hands and scooped out a serving of it for each of them. "My supervisor specifically asked me to be one of the counselors at the camp back in early April when the funding for two trips came through," he explained softly. "It was hard to tell him no, not when it's going to be such good experience for my school."

Carrying the plates, she led the way to the table. "Believe me, I know. I'm not complaining…much," she added with a small giggle as she poured them a glass of iced tea and then took her seat. "It'll go quickly. I've got work at the store to keep me busy, plus the rest of the Bob-Whites to hang out with. Then there's always phone calls, texts, emails, you know, that sort of stuff. It won't be hard to keep in contact…" Her voice drifted off when she got a good look at his face.

His expression told her all that she needed to know. "Ah, Trix, about that…"

Her loud groan let him know that she already realized what he was going to say. "Let me guess," she said sarcastically. "There isn't any way to communicate up there at the camp, is there?"

He smiled weakly. "My supervisor just sent that information to me, ironically enough, in an email. Looks like we'll either have to start letter-writing or start working on our telepathic abilities to keep in contact with each other during those two weeks."

She closed her eyes, put her hands on the table, and appeared to be deep in thought. He looked at her, instantly concerned, and nudged her gently. "Ah, Trixie? Are you okay? What are you doing?"

She cracked open an eye and then cracked a smile. "I'm trying to get in touch with my telepathic abilities."

He smothered a laugh, deciding there wasn't anyone out there quite like his girl. "Is it working?"

"I don't think so." She gave in with a good-natured chuckle. "Oh, well, it looks like it's going to be letter-writing for us." Shaking her head, she handed him a bottle of her mother's famous home-made salad dressing. "I guess it could be worse, huh?"

"Two weeks apart, not much contact, followed quickly by another two weeks apart, with not much contact between us." His eyes said it all, as did his look of regret. "That's pretty bad, Trix. I don't think it could get much worse than that."

She agreed. Never one to wallow in her misery, she forced a look of cheer to her face that almost touched her eyes and tapped his hand. "Well, I'm not going to dwell on it," she announced and scooted her chair a little closer to his. Then she laid a hand on his knee and declared forcefully, "We're simply going to have to make the most of the time that we do have together before you leave for the first time. Then, when you come back, we're going to have to make the most of that time, before you have to leave again. And then, when you come back home, we're going to have three glorious weeks of absolutely uninterrupted time."

"See?" he murmured back, capturing her hand with one of his and holding onto it tightly. Holding her hand was one of his favorite things to do. "We do have telepathic abilities, Trix. I was thinking the same thing."

"Maybe it will continue work when you're a hundred miles away or more," she mumbled with a small smile and leaned forward, forgetting her salad and the two other life forms in the house, her intent for a more satisfying physical closeness than mere hand holding clear and true.

"Trixie!" a familiar but unwelcome voice cut in, interrupting them for the second time that even. Eyes closed, she flopped back against her chair. When she didn't answer, Bobby yelled even louder. "Trixie! Get in here! We need your help!"

A scowl on her face, she pushed her chair back and stood up, like the martyr that she felt she was. "They're probably having trouble setting up the DVD player," she decided with a forlorn look at his lips. "I think Mart was messing around in there earlier today. He probably disconnected it or made a mess of the wires. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Jim stood up with her and put his hands on the back of the counter, prepared to enjoy the view she presented on her way out of the kitchen. When her swinging hips were out of sight, he realized that his left hand was resting on an envelope. In an almost off-handed move, he brought it up and skimmed the return address. The immediate interest he felt was all-consuming. Frowning, he wondered why she hadn't brought it up yet. While his fingers itched to pull the letter out of its torn covering, he forced himself to wait until she returned to the room.

Trixie bounced back into the room a few minutes later with her trademark high level of energy. "Well, the DVD player is now successfully set up and their current favorite movie of the moment, _Beetlejuice_, is now playing. If I know the two of them like I think I do, they are going to watch it over and over and over again. I'm sure they're going to need a refreshment break soon, though. Can't watch a movie without popcorn, you know. Other than that, I doubt we're going to hear much more out of them tonight!" she announced gaily. She wanted the two to be as occupied as possible.

Her happy words didn't penetrate. "Ah, Trix," he began, holding the envelope aloft. "What, ah, is this?"

She paused in the act of sitting down at the table. Straightening up again, she looked at the envelope in his hand. Unbelievably, she had forgotten about it. When she recognized it, her face flared with the cursed red color. "Oh, that," she responded feebly.

He laid it back on the counter and watched her carefully, curious as to why she had flushed. "Isn't this from the scholarship committee you had told me about a while back? If I remember correctly, the committee is giving out scholarships to criminal justice majors. I didn't realize you had heard from them."

"It came today." She slowly sat back down at the table and patted his seat. When he rejoined her, she shared, "Mart got the mail this morning. He was at his usual worst. You know how he can be. Brian had to wrangle the letter out of his hand. Otherwise, I doubt if he would have ever given it to me."

He found it odd that she didn't look directly at him, noting that she seemed more content to swirl around the remnants of her half-eaten salad than to try to eat it. He jumped to the only logical conclusion possible and strongly wished that she would let him help out with the expense of her schooling. His plans for the two of them stretched out as long and as wide as the ocean itself. "You didn't get the scholarship, did you?"

She snapped her head back. She received much more than the smaller one that she had been expecting but she didn't bring it up. It wasn't a consideration, certainly didn't even exist to her anymore as even a remote possibility, and was one she wouldn't dream of accepting. Its one and only condition was deplorable. There was simply no way she would ever move to California. "Yeah, actually, I did. I got the scholarship. I have to call the committee to accept it. I'll get five hundred dollars each year I'm at NYU. It won't pay the full bill, of course, but it will certainly help out with the cost of a few textbooks."

He caught her laugh, thought it sounded a bit forced, but didn't call her on it, thinking that she was disappointed in the small amount of the scholarship. He was quiet for a moment, biting back the urge to offer to help her with the expenses, and searched for a way to make her smile. "I know places," Jim shared with her. "Secret places. I can take you to the best places to buy any supplies that you need next year."

He could take her anywhere, as far as she was concerned. Her giggle this time was much more normal, true to form and made him relax. "I'll hold you up on that offer, Jim. I'm looking forward to the fall."

Draping an arm over her shoulder, he whispered, "And I'm looking forward to next Saturday."

She pushed aside her bowl, her appetite completely gone, and leaned in closer to him, her eyes boring into him, more than eager to lay the subject of her scholarship to rest. "You haven't told me about our night yet. What are we doing on our anniversary?"

"You'll find out on Saturday night, exactly one week from today," he told her with a tone of superiority that had her fluttering her eyelashes in feigned disgust. He leaned in close, almost as if he was going to give her yet another kiss, and then brushed aside one of her curls instead, earning a small grunt of disappointment that had him chuckling deeply. "Were you able to switch your shift at the store for the night?"

She nodded her head. "Of course. I did that the second I saw the schedule that Mr. Lytell posted. Aubrey didn't mind switching with me at all, not when I offered to take all the Friday and Saturday nights when you're away as a way to make up for it. She even very nicely offered to work the weekends when you're home so that we could be together on those nights, too."

"Good." He brushed a kiss against her temple and then stood up, taking their salad bowls over to the sink to be washed. "Since you made the salad without any help from me and provided us with dinner, I'll take care of washing and drying the dishes. What do you want to do after we finish the clean-up?"

"Since Bobby and Larry have claimed the den, we're left with the living room. We can watch TV in there, if you want to." Trixie picked up the rest of the silverware, the glasses, and their utensils, and handed them over to Jim. Then she went back to wipe down the table. The kitchen would have to be left in the same shape as they had found it, which meant absolutely immaculate. After she was finished, she reached into a cabinet and pulled out the hot air popper. "For when the natives get hungry for popcorn," she explained at Jim's curious look.

He finished drying the few dishes they had used and walked over to her, unable to resist the wide, dazzling smile she gave him. Forgetting that there were two young, impressionable preteens in the house, he leaned down and captured her mouth with his. His lips were more demanding than normal, slanting across her mouth in the way that she loved and with more force, almost as if he wanted to imprint on both of them that they belonged together, even with the coming separation that was hanging over them.

Trixie felt the return of the urgency that always seemed to flare between them without a moment's notice or even much effort on either's part, reveled in it, and answered it with her usual response, holding on to him and letting the passion flow over and around her until it seemed to take her over. How could she even consider taking that unexpected offer, she managed to think to herself even as she began to follow him down that new and tantalizing path he had introduced her to, when she had someone as wonderful as Jim Frayne as her boyfriend?

The sounds of preadolescent laughter floating back from the den interrupted them again, causing both to jump back and stare at each other awkwardly. "I forgot about them. Again," Trixie remarked inanely, her chest rising and falling with each breath that she took, and gave a small shake of her head.

He forced his eyes to stay on her face, to not let them look at the two tempting points residing in the vicinity below her chin. "Me, too," Jim admitted huskily. Knowing that if he touched her right then and there that he'd be looking for a place where they could get more comfortable, which wasn't appropriate at all since there were two pairs of eyes only a short hallway away, he took a healthy step backwards and ran an agitated hand through his red hair. "We should probably go out to the living room," he suggested after a moment of surprisingly comfortable silence.

Trixie nodded her head. "That's a great idea." She stopped in the doorway and then went back to the radio. She flicked it off, effectively ending the tribute to Brooks and Dunn, and cutting off the strains of the classic, _That Ain't No Way To Go_. Then she sent one more glance around the kitchen to make certain that it would meet her mother's specifications before her eyes landed on the envelope that was once again lying on the kitchen counter. She frowned at it and then decided that it didn't deserve another thought. Turning on her bare heels, she left the room in search of Jim.


	5. Chapter 5

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Four

"Would you look at that?" Trixie murmured and pointed into the den, amused by the sight that met her eyes. In what had to be one of the most uncomfortable positions of sleep she had ever witnessed, Larry was sprawled half on, half off, of the recliner. She wondered how he could possibly sleep like that, with his head dangling over one side and his legs over the other. A trail of drool fell from his mouth. Bobby looked just as odd. His feet were resting on the top of the sofa while his head was cocooned on the arm rest. Soft snores came from him every few seconds. She could only imagine how stiff his neck would be when he woke in the morning. "I can't believe they managed to fall asleep already. I thought they would stay up until the sun rose in the morning."

"I thought the same thing." Jim sent her a smile and flicked off the television set that was much louder than it should have been. Sudden silence filled the room immediately. Watching the boys closely, he noticed that neither one of them moved. Then he went over and began turning off the lamps in the room until the only light came from the full moon outside. Amused, he watched as Trixie began collecting the empty paper plates. "Weren't you going to make Bobby clean up after himself?" he asked quietly from across the room.

"It's the curse of being a Belden," she answered with a stifled chuckle and gave a helpless shrug. She couldn't help it. Her mother had taught her too well. While cleaning wasn't her forte, was certainly something she would never, ever enjoy doing, she couldn't leave the room in the shambles it was in. It had to be returned to some semblance of its former glory. The vacuuming would have to wait until the morning, she noted a after taking careful stock of the mess of crumbs on the floor. She would save that delightful chore for her youngest brother. "And it's a shame, too. You've known us long enough to know that we can't leave a room messy, no matter how much any of us would like to." She put the plates down on the coffee table and began to put the room back to rights with Jim's help. They moved as silently as possible and did their best not to wake up the two sleeping inhabitants in the quiet room. In no time at all, the homemade afghans were refolded and placed back over the chairs. The throw pillows from the sofa were neatly stacked on the floor and the tops of the coffee table and end tables, if they didn't exactly gleam in the moonlight, were free from the mess that the boys had made on them. "Come to think of it," Trixie whispered as they headed out of the room, their arms loaded down with half-empty snack bowls, almost an entire six-pack of empty and crushed soda cans, and paper plates, "I'm a little disappointed in Bobby and Larry. They're both fast asleep and it's not even eleven o'clock yet. I seem to remember never getting a lot of sleep during my sleepovers with Honey or Di."

Jim nodded his agreement. "It is a rather pathetic showing for the preteen set. I thought they would have stayed up much later, too." It hadn't been a difficult night of watching over the two young boys. Unless they had needed sustenance in the form of snacks or a carbonated beverage, the boys had remarkably left them alone and had stayed out of their way. "But, if you remember correctly, the reason why you didn't fall asleep during many of those sleepovers wasn't because you girls stayed up all night talking or watching movies. It was generally because you either went searching for clues on your latest case or you decided on the spur of the moment that midnight was a great time to face down your favorite criminal of the moment," he pointed out wryly, trying not to recall some of the more dangerous midnight excursions she had partaken in when she was younger.

Trixie stopped in her tracks and grinned sheepishly at him, glad that they were well past the lecture part of their relationship where she had felt more like an underling and less like an equal. Her tone was both apologetic and candid. She couldn't disregard it without sounding like a complete hypocrite. "True. I can't argue with you on that one, Jim. Everything always worked out in the end, though. I can thank you for many of those happy endings." She stood up on her tiptoes and brushed a quick kiss against his lips before she entered the darkened kitchen and blinked furiously when he turned on the overhead lights. Once her eyes adjusted to the lighting, she went over to the sink where, in a show of sisterly support, she quickly washed the snack bowls and silverware and then worked on drying them. When the sink was once again empty and shiny, she turned to Jim, the last snack bowl and dish towel in her hands. "Well, that's it, Jim. Not a bad night's work, if I do say so myself. The kitchen is almost cleaned. The den isn't in that bad of shape. Bobby won't be grounded in the morning. He and Larry are sleeping in the den. The rest of my family should start returning home soon. All is well at Crabapple Farm for another day." She slanted a curious glance at him. While he didn't have a curfew, lucky almost-college senior that he was, she knew that he didn't have to stay any longer unless he wanted to. He had fulfilled his promise to help her watch over Bobby and Larry. She hesitated before inquiring, hoping that he would not want to leave yet, "Do you want to stay until everyone returns home?"

"You don't really need an answer to that question, do you?" His lone arched eyebrow said it all, as did the smile on his face and the sarcastic tone to his voice. "If you want me to spell it out for you, I will. I never leave your house early anymore, Trix. Generally your mother or your father have to kick me out of here." It was true. Mrs. Belden was much more polite about it than her father was. Jim never left Crabapple Farm until the very last possible moment, wanting to spend as much time with her as he possibly could. But he didn't share the added reason why he wasn't in any hurry to leave or tell her why he was more than eager for a particular member of the family to come home. He had absolutely no intentions of leaving until he did. When his palms became suddenly wet with sweat, a testament to the nerves brought on by the item that he was rather impatiently waiting on, he wiped them on the front of his shorts and cleared his throat before noting, "I don't seem to recall ever having most of the Belden clan up and still out of the house past eleven o'clock at night. Your family is generally in their beds and asleep by now."

"Tell me about it." She couldn't help but giggle and put down the last bowl she had been drying, completely unaware of the sudden nerves that had attacked her boyfriend. The towel landed in a heap next to the bowl. "I think Mart and Brian have changed our sleep habits. Every time they come back from college they seem to need to sleep in later and later. I don't know if it's from the stress of college or simply because they don't like early morning classes. Either way, they have affected our morning schedule here. We have, unfortunately, fallen into the same trap. We're not the early risers we used to be unless there is a specific reason why we have to get up early."

He couldn't believe that they had the house almost completely to themselves. The two slumbering boys didn't rate, he thought to himself, and he reached out to trace her cheek with a finger. It was a shame they couldn't truly enjoy the solitude. "What do you have to do tomorrow?" he asked, his voice warm and low.

"Work," she answered, turning her cheek into his touch and closing her eyes. She loved the feel of his hand on her, wherever he managed to touch her. It was something that she was beginning to crave and she briefly wondered if she had become addicted to his touch. She wouldn't be surprised. The need she felt for him grew each day. "Since I had today off from the store, I get to work all day tomorrow. It won't be bad, though. Believe me, Sundays are just about as busy as any other day at Mr. Lytell's store, which, of course, means they aren't that busy at all. I will get the usual crew in, which means most of the inhabitants of Glen Road."

"You can count on me. I'll stop in and visit you tomorrow." He draped an arm around her shoulder, pulled her closer to him and glanced around the room. "The kitchen looks good," he said after running his hand up and down her back before letting it rest on her hip. "Your mother won't find any fault with it when she comes back."

"She's not the harsh taskmaster I make her out to be," Trixie admitted with a small smile as she laid her head against his chest and breathed in the woodsy scent of his cologne. Her hands came to rest at his waist while she contemplated what it would feel like to actually spend an entire night in his presence. Heaven, pure heaven, she realized with a small sigh. Clearing her throat, she quickly interjected, "She's always very understanding to me and lets me out of my chores all the time. She just loves our house so much, the same as I do, and she takes a lot of pride in how it looks. It's so nice and cozy and homey."

"Crabapple Farm has always reminded me of the farmhouse I shared with my parents. It may not look exactly the same but it has the same feel to it. Nice, cozy and homey, just like you said, Trix." Jim shared after a moment of silence, looking off into the distance as he remembered the house he had grown up in, as well as the loving parents who had turned it into a home. The pang of remembrance was always bittersweet and filled him with more than a bit of regret. It wasn't a road he liked to travel down that often but there were times when he simply couldn't refuse to visit it, like right now. Whether it was because she was resting comfortably in his arms or the fact that she had brought up the subject of homes, he couldn't tell. His voice was huskier than normal when he admitted, "I like farmhouses, too."

The astonishment shot all the way through her, as it always did when he brought up his parents. Unsure what to say next, Trixie leaned back and stared into his eyes, searching for the correct way to respond. He never shared much about his life before Sleepyside. She always felt honored when he told her something about his birth parents or his childhood, somehow knowing that he didn't share much of his early years with any of the other Bob-Whites. He reserved his special confidences for her, only for her. When he didn't continue, only met her look with a wistful one of his own, she bit her tongue and didn't pry. "I'd love to have a house like this for my own home someday," she said instead. "Big and inviting, with a wide front porch, and, as much as I hate to say it, with a garden off to the side. It wouldn't be right if there wasn't a garden."

Shaking away the memories, he stared at her closely, surprised that her thoughts closely echoed his. In fact, he could even picture the house she was describing. A lovely farmhouse, sitting right at the top of the hill, where an old mansion once stood. Ten Acres, only a hop, skip and a jump away from their present location. "What color would your house be?" he questioned intently.

She pulled back a bit, an incredulous look on her face. "Do you really have to ask, Jim?"

"Blue," he answered for her, his lopsided grin showing. "It would have to be blue."

"Come on. Is there any other color out there but blue?" Trixie retorted with a mixture of a snort and a giggle.

The house he always imagined was blue. Like she had said, there wasn't any other possibility out there for them but blue. "All right. I think I got it. You like blue farmhouses with a porch and a garden. Anything else I should know?"

"Two stories, definitely. A kitchen where everything is run by push buttons would be extremely nice," she shared, her eyes twinkling merrily when he laughed at her suggestion. "But, since that hasn't been invented yet, I guess I could settle for a dishwasher." She eyed the kitchen sink with a look of disgust. "That's one appliance my parents have never seen fit to buy, no matter how many times I've asked them to do that."

He didn't need to make any mental notes about the house. It matched his imaginary one perfectly. And the kitchen already came equipped with a dishwasher. He knew she would want one. "I've got it all, then. A dishwasher is a must, not that I'm surprised. You hate washing dishes the old-fashioned way. Any other particulars that you want?"

"Not really." Trixie shook her head, sending her short curls dancing. "I haven't thought that far ahead. I have to get through four years of college first. Then I have to get my private detective license. After that Honey and I need to set up our agency and build up a good clientele. After all that has happened, then I think I'll start worrying about a house." Everything sounded so far away but, as she realized that Jim was already entering his senior year at college, it came to her how quickly the time would pass. And there was an extremely intimate part of her plan that she didn't share with him, since it included the two of them, a ceremony with all of their friends and family surrounding them, two gold rings, and the replacement of her last name with his.

He knew he would be right by her side through it all, although he noticed that one very important piece of his plan for them was missing from her list. The slight blush to her cheeks told him that she had purposefully left it out. Jim's grin was one of pure male delight. He would have part of her intentional oversight fixed by this time next week. Not calling her on it, he declared quietly, "We'll have to see what we can do about that house of yours one day, won't we?"

The breath she swallowed nearly stuck in her throat. Other than discussing their careers and what they hoped to do after graduation, they had never talked about their romantic future beyond the three simple words of 'I love you.' As Trixie met the serious green of his eyes, she realized what he was telling her, that his thoughts mirrored hers, and felt her heart skip a few nearly painful beats. "I don't think I'll change my mind," she informed him when she was relatively certain that she could speak without sounding like an idiot. "I really like blue."

"I'm not going to change my mind, either. I have definitely developed a love of the color blue, too," he responded, his words carrying a wealth of meaning that she couldn't miss. Then he announced, "It seems that we have a few minutes before anyone comes back." He looked down at her and waggled his eyebrows. "Whatever are we going to find to keep us occupied?"

Trixie tilted her head back and contemplated the question, a half-smile on her face while her blush slowly receded. "I'm sure my mother already has a list of chores waiting for me for the next few days. Do you want to help me get a jump on the dusting?" Making certain to add an extra inflection on the last two words, she fluttered her eyes innocently at him.

"Dusting? No. I don't think so. That's not what I had in mind. Not at all," he responded throatily, his hands circling her waist and drawing her lithe body flush against him.

"Okay, then. We're going to have to think of something else to do," she chirped out merrily, waving a hand helplessly through the air while he began pressing a series of kisses from the base of her neck up to her ear. Concentrating extra hard on her words and striving for a successfully teasing tone, she continued, doing her best to ignore his ministrations and failing miserably, "Vacuuming is out. We can't wake the young ones, you know, but I'm certain that I could think of another helpful chore if you would just give me the chance…" Her giggles died quickly when his mouth brushed hers, first once, twice, and then a third time.

"Don't you like my idea much better than yours?" Jim murmured against her lips, a satisfied smirk on his handsome face, and a glint of desire that turned his eyes into a dark, dark green.

She nodded her head dumbly and kissed him back. "You know I do. I was only joking. I'd much rather kiss you than do any old household chore."

It was his turn to pull back. "I'm glad to know that I rate somewhere above washing dishes and putting away the laundry," he remarked dryly and with lifted eyebrows.

The smile tilted her lips. Delighted with the results of her teasing, she pulled his head down. "Let's see if you can beat out gardening," she said playfully and giggled when their lips touched again. Groaning when he immediately took over, making the kiss stronger and more forceful than she had intended, she felt herself be swept along on that tide where the only thing that existed were the feelings they created.

The sounds on the porch steps alerted them thirty seconds before the screen door was opened. The first returning Belden of the night was home. Trixie had just enough time to pull herself out of Jim's arms, smooth back the hair he could never resist, and sprint to the sink where she picked up a completely dry snack bowl and pretended to dry it again with a dish towel, her cheeks a bright red. There was nothing quite as embarrassing as being caught in an embrace by one of her brothers or their friends. She tried to avoid it at all costs.

Jim watched her out of the corner of his eyes, doing his best not to let the grin loose on his lips, and leaned against the kitchen counter, with one ankle crossed over the other in an innocent pose. "Hey, Brian," he greeted the newcomer with extreme nonchalance. There was no need to attempt to trick him, he figured philosophically. They wouldn't be able to succeed.

As Jim had predicted, Brian wasn't fooled for a minute but, since he hadn't witnessed his best friend pawing his baby sister, he decided not to dwell on it. Ignorance was bliss, as far as he was concerned, and he was more than content to believe that Jim had spent the time watching his sister take care of the dishes at the sink. "Hey, Jim," he answered back and gave a two-finger salute to his sister, who only managed a weak smile in greeting and continued to dry the bowel. Heading over to the refrigerator, he grabbed an apple and bit back the observation that the bowl couldn't get any drier. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable so he declared instead, "It's a lot quieter in here than I expected. Where are Bobby and Larry?"

Trixie found her voice despite the fact she could still feel the heated flush on her cheeks and the pressure of insistent warm lips on top of hers. "Believe it or not, Brian, they have already fallen asleep." When she realized that her voice sounded normal to her own ears and wasn't mixed with the passion that Jim seemed to stir so easily within her, she explained further, "They're camped out in the den, in the most uncomfortable sleeping positions imaginable."

"I think they also successfully managed to eat almost everything in the house," Jim interjected laughingly. "Bobby may actually give Mart a run for his money as the Belden who can eat the most. It would be an interesting match to witness. I wouldn't lay any money down on the winner. It may actually be too close to call."

Brian took another bite out of his apple and stared at his best friend, thinking it would be a good idea to watch him squirm. "I didn't realize you'd still be here, Jim, otherwise I would have brought the movies home with me. Dan said that he would return the movies that he borrowed from you the next time he stopped in to visit his uncle." He had to laugh at himself. Of course Jim would still be at Crabapple Farm. When they were in Sleepyside, the pair was practically inseparable. He glanced at his sister and wondered how she was going to feel when Jim was away at his camp. Then he shrugged his shoulder, figuring he must be pretty boring or in serious need of a life of his own if he was contemplating the aspects of his sister's love life and rolled his eyes at his own foolishness.

Jim heard the question behind his best friend's deceptively easy statements and lifted his eyebrows. Brian wasn't going to make it easy for him, not that he had ever expected him to. He had a minute to ponder what it would be like to share a student apartment with the brother of his girlfriend before he shook away the thoughts. They would work through it. Somehow. And hopefully without too much awkwardness or discomfort, for any of them. "No problem, Brian. I told Dan it didn't matter when I got the movies back." Although he knew it looked odd since the first Belden had returned home, Jim didn't make a move to leave the house. Instead, he stayed right where he was, as if he was as permanent a fixture in the house as Trixie or Brian were. There was one more Belden that he needed to see before going home.

Trixie carefully folded up the bright yellow dish towel and hung it from the handle on the stove, ignorant of the puzzled look her brother aimed her boyfriend's way. "You know, Bobby and Larry weren't really that bad tonight, Brian. It makes me wonder if Terry is the ringleader of the group."

"Or maybe three happens to be the magic number for mayhem," Brian chuckled and refused to feel like the third wheel in his own kitchen. He caught the envelope that was still lying on the counter and clapped his sister on the shoulder. "Did Trixie tell you about her offer?" he asked Jim.

Jim didn't catch the way Trixie's eyes widened. He picked up the envelope and handed it to her. "Yeah, she did," he answered and smiled in her direction. He was proud of her.

She reached for the envelope, intentionally fumbled it on the hand-off, watched it flutter to the floor, and gave a small, wry laugh when Jim bent down to pick it up. "The five hundred dollars will certainly help." Trixie spoke the words calmly and carefully, hoping that her brother would pick up on her tone and let the matter drop. When Brian gave her a strange look, she unobtrusively elbowed him in the stomach and shook her head before Jim came back up with the envelope.

Jim missed it all. He waved the envelope like a flag. "Don't fumble it this time," he grinned at Trixie and, as deliberately as possible and with an amount of fan-fare that would have pleased Mart immensely, held the envelope out to her again, making certain not to let go of it until she had it within her competent hands.

"Thanks," she mumbled lowly with her head down, folding it up and placing it in her back pocket.

"Make sure you call the committee to let them know that you accept the offer." Brian was still looking at her but, having scored extremely high on his SATs, as well as having a nearly perfect 4.0 at college in his premed studies, he had quickly figured out that she didn't want Jim to know about the second offer. It wasn't hard for him to come to the conclusion that she didn't want to tell him because she wasn't serious about it and had no intentions of accepting it. His dark eyes held hers for a moment before he let the matter drop, having vowed the second the two had became a couple nearly two years earlier to never get involved in their romance. If she didn't want to tell him the complete offer, then he wasn't about to bring it up.

She blew out a relieved breath when she realized she had dodged a bullet. "Of course. I'll call them sometime next week. You'll probably have to keep prodding me, though, Brian. I doubt I will remember to do it."

"The wonders of being an older brother," he said to the air at large. He heard a car pull up in the driveway. Pushing aside the blue and white checked curtains, Brian looked out the window and announced, "It looks like our parents have returned home. That just leaves Mart unaccounted for."

Jim lost his casually negligent pose. Back ramrod straight, emerald eyes glinting with a steely purpose, and his mouth a thin line, he moved towards the doorway with a nervous energy that neither picked up on. "I'll see you both in the living room," he announced lowly and walked out of the kitchen without a backwards glance, hoping that he would have enough time alone with her parents before she made it into the room.

"Mart should be home around midnight," Trixie addressed her brother, staring with some surprise at her boyfriend's quickly departing back. Turning back to Brian, she added, "Di's curfew is still eleven-thirty. She has to be back in her house by then. I'm sure it'll be about midnight by the time he makes it home." She walked towards the doorway, only to be halted by her brother.

"I don't really care about Di's curfew or Mart's expected arrival time." Brian grabbed her elbow. With one eye down the hallway and only when he was certain Jim was well out of hearing distance, he proclaimed quietly, "But I do care about something. You didn't tell Jim about the other offer. Why?"

"Gleeps, Brian! It doesn't matter! I'm not taking it," Trixie replied just as quietly back but her words came out on a rush. "I'm not. There's no need to tell anyone. I didn't even tell Moms and Dad about it. I'm not going to tell Di, Honey or Dan, either. It's a meaningless offer. I don't want to make a big deal out of nothing and I don't want to worry anyone or make them think that I would ever consider moving away. It's better to just let it rest, Brian. No one needs to know about it."

Brian reluctantly let go of her elbow, unsure if hiding the offer was the best way to go or not but he couldn't find any faults with her arguments. It was easy to read the truth of her words in the stance of her body. She meant it. She had no intentions of taking the offer. "All right. Consider the matter laid to rest. I can't help it that I worry about you, Trix. I am your brother, you know."

"You're in my top three of favorite brothers ever," she admitted gratefully, her lips tilting up at the corners.

"Gee, that's saying a lot," he grouched back with a roll of his dark eyes. "You only have three brothers. It does my heart good to know that I rate right there with Mart and Bobby." Muted voices could be heard coming from the living room. He started into the hallway and pulled her along with him. "It seems Jim is the only one greeting our parents. While I'm certain that they consider him an honorary Belden by now, considering the fact that he spends as much time here as the rest of us do, we should probably get there before they think he's stalling for some reason."

She blushed to the roots of her curly hair when she caught onto his meaning. "That's not right, Brian. Not right at all. You're now pulling at an extremely low number three on my list of favorite brothers. That's saying a lot, since Mart usually occupies that position," she huffed out under her breath and stomped her way down the hall, mortified by her brother's insinuation, and with his deep chuckles following her.

Jim saw her the second she came into the room, frowned at the unpleasant scowl on her face, and wondered what had transpired between the time he had left the kitchen and walked to the living room to make her look like that. Then he felt the object that her father had slipped him in the few minutes he had somehow managed to steal without her around and forgot about it. There was only a week to go before he could give it to her. It couldn't have been more perfect. It couldn't have felt more right. His plans were the biggest he had ever made.

"Hi, Moms. Hey, Dad," Trixie said, giving her parents a hug and quickly bringing them up to date on the status of her young charges, completely unaware of the thoughts swirling around in Jim's mind or the speculative way he was studying her. "Both Larry and Bobby are asleep in the den. You don't need to worry, Moms. Jim and I cleaned the room up the best that we could. The rest will keep until the morning."

Brian greeted his parents and, with a word of farewell for everyone, went up the stairs to his room. Trixie didn't make a move to copy him. She found refuge next to Jim and smiled up at him. After he received a knowing and dismissive look from both of her parents, even her more than understanding mother, he started towards the door. It was clearly past time for him to leave. "Have a good night," he told the Beldens before stepping out onto the porch, with Trixie right behind him.

"So, we have a big night next Saturday, too, right?" Trixie asked the second the door closed behind them. She spared one careful look and noted with some relief that her parents weren't watching them. Yet. They had a few more minutes of solitude before they were finally forced to call it a night. "I'll bet you have something much better planned than staying home and watching over my brother and one-half of his best friends."

"Next Saturday? You mean next Saturday?" He pretended to consider her question and stared up at the porch ceiling. "Do we have something planned for next Saturday? I do seem to remember that something was happening." He tapped his finger along the porch railing and then snapped his fingers. "Maybe horse-riding? Could that be it? It seems to me that Regan has been complaining that the horses aren't getting enough exercise."

"Regan always complains about the horses and their lack of exercise." Eyes narrowed into blue slits of pure annoyance, she hit him the chest, unsure whether she should laugh or rail at him. "Jim! You don't have to be so secretive or annoying, you know. You know I'm talking about our anniversary."

"I know." Jim grabbed both of her hands within his and held them tight against his chest."You're going to have to be patient, Trix. I'm not going to tell you anything about next Saturday night. It's a lot to ask of you but you're going to have to be patient. Patience really isn't your thing, is it, Trix?"

"It's right up there with math but you know that, too. After all, you spent a good amount of your free time tutoring me in the awful subject," she reminded him with a sparkle to her eyes. She knew her weaknesses as well as he did. Then she released large, drawn-out sigh. "Well, I suppose I can wait to find out, if you promise to make it worthwhile. It won't be that long, either, will it? I only have a week to wait."

"I'll make the wait worthwhile, I promise you that." He leaned forward, his eyes zeroing in on her lips, only to be interrupted yet again by the sudden onslaught of the porch light. He ended up leaning his head against the side of the porch and swallowed back a groan of disappointment.

Trixie covered her mouth to keep the giggles from escaping. He looked rather frustrated and extremely endearing to her. "I don't think it's our night, Jim," she shared after a minute. "I would say that's my father's way of telling me I really need to say goodnight and that you really need to go home."

"He's very subtle, isn't he?" Jim asked rhetorically with a smaller sigh of disappointment. He caught the way she looked with the advent of the bright white light surrounding her and felt the disappointment shoot through him with even more strength and force. He had been quick to realize that he was never going to be able to spend enough time with her. Even an entire evening with relatively few interruptions hadn't been enough. And the object burning a hole in his pocket almost made him reconsider his decision to wait until their anniversary. Almost. His fingers brushed against it while he battled his own brand of impatience before he reluctantly let it go. Asking her on the porch with one or either of her parents potentially watching them wasn't how he wanted it to happen. It had to be memorable. It had to be as special as his girl was to him. "This time I'll say good night, Trix, and actually mean it."

She came with him down the steps, out into the darkened yard with the light of the full moon above illuminating the entire area, and stopped at the edge of the grass. Their parting was always like this. Neither could ever make a clean break. She didn't want him to leave anymore than he wanted to go. "Thanks for helping me watch over with those two tonight," she said, prolonging the moment for just the briefest bit longer, and slid a sly glance back towards the house. No one had appeared in the window or on the porch yet.

"It was my pleasure," he quickly assured her, his fingers intertwining with hers. "As spending time with you always is. I'll be certain to drop by the store tomorrow." He leaned forward to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek, a far cry from the passionate one she had been expecting and the one that he had intended to give her. "Check the window," he told her at her comical look of surprise. "Love you, Trix."

She didn't need to look again. She understood. One or both of her parents were finally watching, most likely with disapproval. "Good night, Jim. I love you." She reluctantly let his hand go and watched him start up the path that would take him home. A spear of moonlight caught him when he came to the place where the lawn met the woods. He turned and looked back. She waved back at him before he disappeared from sight. Then she retraced her steps and entered the house. "'Night, Moms, Dad!" she called out before pounding up the stairs, already certain that her dreams were going to be more than sweet, more than pleasant, and potentially the best she had ever dreamed before.

"She doesn't have a clue, does she?" Helen decided as she handed a glass of something stiff and strong to her husband who looked like he could use it.

He sniffed it, gave her a grateful look, and downed its contents in two sips. It didn't fill the small ache in his heart but it certainly helped take the edge off of his worry. "Before Trixie and Brian came into the room, I was able to remind Jim of his promise to wait to set the date until after she graduates from college. That's a big condition of mine. She has to finish school first."

"I heard you. Jim won't go back on his word, you know that." She only hoped the two of them could make it that far without anything unplanned happening. She wasn't a stupid mother and had her suspicions about certain activities that were most likely taking place between the two. Because she wasn't stupid, she hadn't shared her thoughts with her husband. He didn't need to know. Trixie rather preferred Jim's head on his shoulders. "She's not going to refuse him when he asks her on Saturday, you know," Helen told him in her straight-forward manner, hoping that her husband was as prepared for it as he could be.

Placing his hands on his hips, he stared up at the ceiling and let out a small breath."I've been readying myself for this moment from the time she first started telling me about a certain missing nephew of our neighbor on the hill. I can honestly say that I feel awful that it has finally come to pass." He placed the glass on the table with a smart snap and offered his wife his arm. "Is it time for bed yet?"

Helen brushed a thin curtain aside and then nodded her answer. "It is. Mart's home. We can go to bed now." She never liked to fall asleep until all of her children were accounted for. Resting a hand on her husband's shoulder, they ascended the stairs together. Speaking as quietly as she could, knowing that their walls had many pairs of interested ears, she said, "Don't worry about Trixie and Jim. They are both smart, wonderful people. It will all work out the way it should. You'll see." Her only answer was a small grunt from him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Five

With a small wave to Miss Trask, Dan took the wide stairs of the Manor House two at a time, a handful of movies in his hand, and cheerfully whistled his way towards the long second floor hallway that housed the bedrooms of two of his good friends. When he reached the hallway, he came to a stop and called out to the person about to enter the bathroom at the far end of the hall. "Hey, Jim! I've got your movies!"

Immediately aware of the owner of the voice, Jim pivoted on his heels and waited for Dan to come to him, a change of clothes dangling from his hand. He grinned a greeting. "Dan, it's always nice of you to stop by. How was your day? How is Sergeant Molinson and the rest of the police department?"

"My day was much better than yours, by the looks of it. You look…dirty," Dan noted with some surprise, taken aback. He frowned at the disheveled appearance of his friend. Jim's shirt was stained with sweat and some dark material he couldn't identify. It could have been mud but he wasn't certain. In fact, he couldn't tell if the shirt had once been tan or white. There was an impressive hole on the side of his jeans that ran from his knee and halfway down to his calf, as well as mound of dirt that appeared to be caked under his fingernails and on his hands. Then Dan sniffed the air, grimaced in disgust at the odoriferous smell coming in waves off of from his friend, and looked at Jim with a comically upraised eyebrow. "Let's forget about how you look, Frayne. To put it plainly, you stink. You absolutely stink. What the hell have you been doing today? Surely you haven't spent the day cleaning out the stables."

"You're partially right. I did finish up in the stables a few minutes ago." Jim wiped a grimy hand across his forehead, threw him a lopsided grin, well aware that he wasn't at his best, and shifted his feet. "I spent a good part of today helping Regan fix the gate to the fence on the far field. You know the gate I'm talking about. You're the one who told Regan that it was broken. Anyway, it took longer than we expected to fix it since we also had to replace the fence post the gate was attached to as well. Since it took so long, Regan was behind with the horses. I also ended up giving him a hand cleaning out the stalls." He glanced down at his stained shirt and the worn jeans that were fraying along the edges. His feet were bare since he had left his boots in the stables, knowing that either Celia or Miss Trask would have had his head if he had attempted to wear them into the house. Jim gestured towards the bathroom door. "Needless to say, I'm on my way to clean up and get a hot shower. It's been a long day."

"I'm surprised Miss Trask let you come into the house looking like that," Dan commented with a tiny shake of his head. "If she had gotten a good look at you, she probably would have forced you to use the garden hose first."

"She didn't see me," Jim shot back smoothly and with a twinkle to his emerald eyes before he let out a short bark of laughter.

He gave an exaggerated bow and motioned for Jim to enter the bathroom. "I won't keep you from your shower. You need it too much." Dan held his nose and took a wide step back from Jim which only made his friend laugh harder. "Where would you like me to put your movies?"

Jim hooked his thumb towards his room. "My door's open. Go right in. I'll be out in about fifteen minutes if you want to hang around. See you, Dan!" He slipped into the bathroom, his laughter following him, more than ready to clean off the after effects of his hard work.

His face screwed up when he got another good, strong whiff of the smell of the stables on his friend. The only way to combat it was to move further down the hallway where the air was a lot cleaner. "Fifteen minutes, huh?" Dan repeated to himself. "I don't think so, Frayne. From the way you look and smell, it'll take much longer than that." Chuckling lowly to himself, he followed the expensive carpet until he reached Jim's door. Then he entered the large bedroom.

The bedroom was neat and tidy, as it always was, and the way Jim preferred it to be. Not an article of clothing or a shoe were out of place. A large bed stood in the middle of the room, with a dark blue comforter and matching pillows decorating it. The bed was flanked on either side by two matching mahogany end tables. Each table held one of a set of brass table lamps. The red neon lights of the alarm clock let Dan know that it was forty-two minutes after five o'clock. Two large windows off to the side let in the streaming sunlight past dark blue curtains while a long dresser that matched the frame of the bed sat at the opposite wall. There was a table that housed a small television set as well as a computer desk for his laptop and other assorted electronic equipment. Unsure where Jim wanted the movies, knowing that his friend would prefer to put them away himself, probably by alphabetical order, Dan headed towards the dresser and placed them on the top of it. His eyes curiously skimmed the assembly of neatly arranged items, idly noting the cologne bottle, the worn leather wallet, sorted and stacked loose change, and the cell phone, which was, of course, on its charger. Many different framed pictures of his family and the Bob-Whites were strategically placed throughout. Dan smiled down at one of the seven of them, correctly identifying it as one of the many the group had posed for on the girls' graduation night. He trailed a finger along the wooden edge of the frame before his eyes landed on something he hadn't expected to see. He closed his eyes, wondering if he had conjured it up, but, when he opened his fascinated eyes again, it hadn't disappeared. It was still there.

Dan's eyes darted to the open door while he did a quick calculation of the time. A certain blue-eyed blonde wasn't the only curious one within their group. Satisfied that only five minutes had passed since he had conversed with Jim in the hallway and that he wouldn't even be close to being finished with his shower, Dan picked up the small black velvet box and turned it over in his hands, studying it closely. "What could this be?" he mumbled quietly to himself, intently looking at it, and debating whether he should open the box up or not. Shrugging a shoulder, he realized the small internal debate was only for his conscience's sake. He was going to open it, to find out if it housed the item he imagined it to, and was a mere millisecond away from flipping it open when Honey called out from the hallway.

"Hey, Jim! I'm finally back from work. You'll never guess how busy the office was today. I think half of Sleepyside must have needed to see Dr. Ferris today." Honey poked her head in her brother's door. "You wouldn't believe how packed the office…was. Oh, Dan! I didn't realize you were in here."

Caught off-guard, Dan fumbled the box and dropped it back on the dresser. He managed to knock over a few pictures, as well as scatter a few other items, in his attempt to pick it back up, and said a violent curse word in his mind. "Oh, hi, Honey," he muttered, a dark red flush staining his cheeks. "It's, ah, good to see you."

"Hi, again, Dan. I didn't expect to see you here. What a treat," Honey replied, happily clasping her hands together. It wasn't odd to find another Bob-White in her brother's room. It happened all the time. Of course, her favorite Bob-White to accidentally run across was the other dark-haired member of their clan. Honey resolutely pushed aside thoughts of Brian and focused on Dan, a welcoming smile on her lips. She didn't think anything was amiss with him until she recognized the expression on his face as one of pure guilt. Her detective instincts kicked in with a vengeance. Rapidly deciding to find out what her friend was hiding, she entered the room and slowly sauntered her way towards him, a spring in her step that he completely missed. "Did you have a busy day today down at the police station?" she questioned, wanting to put him at ease while she tried to gather as much evidence as possible.

Dan attempted as unobtrusively as he could to right the mess he had made out of Jim's personal things, hiding behind a feigned nonchalance that did nothing to fool her. "The police station was quiet again today. There weren't many calls coming in. Sergeant Molinson remarked on it a few times, saying that it's been odd to have Sleepyside being so 'sleepy' for such an extended length of time. He mentioned to me that he's surprised that Trixie hasn't sent any paperwork his way in a while," he answered quickly after giving the dresser a sweeping glance. When he was certain he had replaced everything back to its rightful place, he breathed a sigh of relief and explained belatedly, "I was just returning the movies Brian and I borrowed the other night."

Honey arched a knowing eyebrow and stared at the dresser. While it looked good and orderly, she could quickly pick out the items that Dan had misplaced. "Let me help you, Dan. You haven't put everything back in its right spot," she said as she stepped in front of him and quickly rearranged everything until the dresser top looked the way it was supposed to. "Jim would know right away that something had been moved," she explained softly. "He likes to keep his things in the exact same spot, as I'm sure you know. That should do it, though. I think I have it right."

Dan glanced up at the ceiling, his hand covering the box from her view. Maybe it was because he shared the same chromosome as his friend, some kind of source of pure male bonding, but he wanted to keep the box out of her sight and out of her knowledge. "Thanks for your help, Honey. I thought I had put everything back in its spot."

Honey took a long moment to look him up and down. She didn't miss the way his hand was resting on top of the dresser but she didn't glance in that direction, not wanting to call any attention to it. Her easy smile belied the interested light in her eyes. "You don't have to thank me, Dan," she began, her tone carefully friendly and neutral, hoping to set him at ease. When he relaxed, she added, "But you could try and tell me why you knocked everything over on Jim's dresser. I'm not going to believe you if you try to convince me that it you did it when you put down Jim's movies." Honey looked him in the eyes and stared him down. "I'm looking for the truth, Dan. I saw you holding something before I came in. Then I saw you drop it. Now I think that 'something' is still under your hand. What are you holding, Dan?"

Dan recognized the almost militant look to her. There was no ignoring or putting off Honey Wheeler when she looked like that. While curiosity and Trixie went hand-in-hand, he had come to learn over the years that Honey and tenacity were teamed up, too. She wasn't going to let it go, not until he came clean. He muttered an inward apology to the bonds of male-hood that he was about to willingly break when he informed her, "We don't have that much time before he's finished with his shower. We've got ten minutes, tops, before Jim gets back here." His hand curled around the box. Turning his hand over, he held it out to her. "Here, Honey. I was looking at this."

Honey's eyes grew until they were twice their normal size. "Oh," she got out after she remembered to breathe. "Oh, oh, oh!" Biting her lip, she shared another quick glance with him. She reached out to touch it but drew back her hand, unsure if she should open it up or not. "Dan? Is that what I think it is?"

"I don't know. I never opened it." His dark eyes met hers. "But I think that you and I have the same idea."

"I think it's what you think it is, too. Yes, we definitely have the same idea. We are definitely both thinking the same thing." Forgetting about decorum, proper etiquette, and that it certainly wasn't good manners to search through another's belongings or open up boxes that didn't belong to them, Honey leaned in closer and urged him on. "Quick, Dan. You know you have to. If you don't, then I'm going to. Let's open it before Jim gets back in here." She looked around guiltily. "Quick!"

He didn't need any more encouragement. With almost nervous fingers he flicked open the tiny black velvet box and heard her sharp gasp. "Yup. We were right, Honey," Dan noted as the sunlight hit the diamond solitaire. It wasn't big. It wasn't flashy. It was only a single diamond residing on a plain gold band. But it was perfect for the couple, an heirloom from his family, one that they would both cherish for the rest of their lives and pass on down to their loved ones. He glanced up at Honey, noticed the look of awe and amazement on her face, and handed the box over to her. "It's exactly what we thought it was."

Honey took the box and ran a finger over the diamond. The memories came back of how her best friend had found the ring, as well as the look on Trixie's face when Jim had given it back to her, that long-ago morning when they had discovered that he had left Ten Acres and had moved on, leaving only a letter, the ring, and their memories of him behind. "Oh, my, this is wonderful!" she suddenly gushed out, jumping up and down, absolutely ecstatic for the two of them. She grabbed Dan's hands and started to giggle. "Can you believe it? He's going to ask her to marry him! We're going to have an engaged couple in our midst soon! Won't Trixie be surprised? Won't she be absolutely delighted?"

"Sh-sh," Dan murmured after her squeals calmed down a bit. He arched an ear and listened towards the hallway. "Jim will be finished soon. He probably doesn't want us to know that we saw this, right?" Without waiting for an answer, Dan carefully closed the lid and put it back where he thought he had found it on the dresser. "You can't tell her, Honey. Leave it up to your brother."

She didn't think her smile could get any bigger or more jubilant. "You're right, you're right. I know you are, Dan, but I just can't stop smiling right now. I'm just so happy! It's a good thing we don't have plans tonight. I know I wouldn't be able to keep it in." Her mouth dropped when she heard the bathroom door. She turned to Dan with a shocked expression on her face. She was trapped. She couldn't make it to her room without passing Jim in the hallway. He would know something was up by the way she was acting. "Oh, no! He's coming. He'll know I know if he sees me. I know he will," she explained needlessly and glanced wildly around her brother's room. There was no place to hide. "I'm going to have to put my poker face back on."

Her poker face sucked. They were sunk if Jim got a good look at her. "Honey, why don't you have a seat on Jim's bed?" Dan led her over to it and stuffed a magazine in her hands. "You can pretend to read this until you feel you're able to face your brother."

Honey nodded dumbly and opened the latest copy of _Sports Illustrated_. "Thanks, Dan," she said quietly, her eyes sparking with the knowledge of her plans. She held the magazine in front of her face, unaware of the fact that she held it upside-down. All she could see was the look of happiness on her friend's face when Jim gave her the ring. Then her mind traveled to the preparations for the wedding and the shower and…Her sigh was one of true feminine delight. There wasn't anything better than a wedding, she decided with a secret smile.

Dan stared up at the ceiling and stepped off to the side when Jim came back into his room, wearing a pair of dark orange mesh shorts and a thick towel slung over his shoulders. "Glad you waited for me, Dan. Do you want to get something for dinner tonight?" It would also be a good excuse to call Trixie and have her come up, as well as any of the other Beldens that happened to be around. He had only been able to visit her once, right at the start of her shift. Then he noticed Honey perched on the edge of his bed and ruffled her hair. "Hey, Sis. What's up with you?"

Honey mumbled something incoherent and returned to her study of the magazine. She slid the magazine down so she could peer over it and watched her brother walk over to his dresser and rummage through it until he found a white t-shirt, grateful that he hadn't given her much attention.

Dan glanced towards the dresser, wondered if he should bring up the ring, and answered, "Ah, no thanks, Jim. Mr. Maypenny made his famous stew for me. Why he wanted to make it during the first heat wave of the summer is beyond me but he said he wanted to do that this morning. He believes that I don't eat well at Syracuse at all. He seems to have it in for any type of food that's prepared in large quantities. It seems to be his mission in life to make up for my perceived lack of nutrition on every break I have back home. You and Honey could come over to the cabin if you want to. Mr. Maypenny wouldn't mind. He always likes company."

Jim slipped his t-shirt on and cocked his head to the side, curious as to why his friend was suddenly rambling. Then he swung his head around and frowned at his sister. Hard. She wasn't participating in the conversation, appeared to be deeply involved in a sports magazine, of all things. Jim's frown grew deeper when he realized that she was reading it upside-down. Channeling Trixie, he felt a large amount of curiosity flow through him. Wondering what could be causing their odd behavior, he walked over to the dresser and stared down at the movies Dan had left there. Everything seemed to be in order until he caught sight of the small black box. He picked it up, turned it over in his hand, and wondered if they had seen it. Catching the way that Dan and Honey were doing their best to look everywhere but at him, he came to the only possible conclusion. Jim threw in the towel with only the smallest amount of regret. Realizing that there wasn't any way one could keep a secret within a group of their size, he cleared his throat, held the box up and invited them in. "So, tell me. What do you two think?"

Honey dropped the magazine to the floor with a small thud and sprang to her feet. It took her two steps before she was throwing her arms around her brother and hugging him tightly. "It's wonderful, Jim! Absolutely, positively wonderful! You are going to ask Trixie to marry you!"

Dan lifted both his eyebrows at the sisterly display and then blew out a ragged breath. Running a hand through his thick, dark hair, he began by apologizing, "Look, Jim. I didn't mean to look through your things. I put the movies down and saw it. It was just sitting there. I couldn't resist looking at it so I picked it up. Then Honey came in and interrupted me so I ended up dropping it. The next thing I knew I managed to mess up everything on top of your dresser. Honey helped me put it back together. When she saw the box, we had to take a look in it." He threw his hands in the air and gave a small, disappointed sigh. He couldn't believe that he had been reduced to yet another long, incessant explanation and felt that he was looking more like the village idiot than an almost-sophomore in college. "Anyway, I'm sorry. I really don't make a habit of cataloguing my friends' belongings."

Honey peeped up at him, her smile reaching her eyes. "I do," she admitted without a qualm. "If Dan hadn't opened the box, I would have. I couldn't be happier, Jim. Really, I couldn't."

"Dan, Honey. I don't care if either of you saw it. I don't." Jim shook his head and released a small laugh. "Actually, I'm rather glad you saw it and that you know what I intend to do. The only people I've been able to talk to my plans have been Trixie's parents. As much as I like the Beldens, you can imagine that it wasn't the most enjoyable conversation I've ever had." It certainly wasn't one he ever wanted to go through again. He had done a lot of hemming and hawing, had turned about twenty-five different shades of red, and had finally just spit it out, much to the combined amusement and dread of Peter and Helen Belden. It hadn't been fun. It hadn't been easy. But it had been worth it. Jim clutched the box in his hands, feeling as if he was holding onto every dream he had ever made.

"You could say that again. Asking for their only daughter's hand in marriage couldn't have been pleasant in the least." Dan gave a comical shudder just thinking about it. He had a brief moment to wonder how Brian and Mart would take the news before he decided it didn't matter. Not to him. He wasn't the one who wanted to take their only daughter and sister away. Dan sat down at the place Honey had recently vacated and inquired, "How did it go?"

"Not too bad, I guess. I think it helped that they've been expecting it since the moment I moved into the Manor House," he answered dryly. "Mrs. Belden told me that after I spent about ten minutes floundering around the topic. Looking back, I must not have been all that great about hiding my feelings."

"Trixie wasn't much better," Honey assured him with a watery grin. "We all knew about the two of you before you became a couple. Every single one of us believed that you and Trixie would end up together. We were thinking about starting up a pool as to when you would finally ask her out but you did that before we could get one together." Honey felt a sentimental tear spring to her eye. She wiped it away and added, "No one will be surprised when Trixie starts flashing that ring around."

He looked at them hopefully. "You think she'll say yes?"

Honey and Dan stared at him before a sharp bark of collective laughter burst out of them. "There's not a chance in hell that she'll say anything but yes," Dan decreed forcefully once his laughter died down. Holding onto his side, he added, "But you can't tell me that Peter Belden got that ring out of the safety deposit box and handed it back over to you without a condition or two of his own."

Jim had visibly relaxed with their reaction to his question. It was one of his worst nightmares that Trixie would gently but politely refuse his offer. "Only one. He made me promise that we would wait to get married until after she graduates from college." It wasn't a bad condition, even if it postponed what he wanted for a few more years. Trixie would be able to focus on her degree. He would be able to focus on his masters degree and the start of his doctorate. Then they would focus on beginning their lives together. It sounded fine to him.

"That's reasonable." Dan stared at the box, hardly able to imagine any girl that he would want to hand something like that to. He figured Jim was holding something as dangerous as a stick of dynamite in his hand instead of a simple diamond ring. It definitely wasn't for him, he thought with a small grimace.

Honey laid her head on her brother's shoulder. It sounded so romantic to her, like something out of a movie where everything ended up happily ever after. "When are you going to ask her?" she asked after she regained the use of her voice.

"Saturday," Jim replied. He carefully and with a great deal of reverence placed the ring back on the top of the dresser, right in front of a picture of Trixie taken the night of her prom. "I thought it would be the perfect way to help celebrate our anniversary."

"That is lovely." Honey sighed deeply and slowly sank down next to Dan on the bed. "Perfectly perfect."

Dan leaned back and eyed Jim carefully. "Man, you're whipped," he boomed out merrily, shaking his head at the fall his friend was about to willingly take. "But I'm happy for you and for Trix. You two are a good fit. You always have been. You'll make a great married couple."

It wasn't as awkward to talk about as he had thought it would be. The support coming from the two made him even more confident and excited about his decision. "Ah, Dan? Honey?" he asked lowly. "I don't think I have to say this but neither of you are going to tell anyone about this, right? I would much rather have it be a secret for now. I would appreciate it if you didn't say anything to anyone."

Dan nodded towards the weepy woman sitting next to him. "You're not going to have to worry about me. I won't say a word, even though it would be an awful lot of fun to watch Mart's face when he finds out. Nope, you don't have to worry about me. It's that sister of yours you have to ask that question to."

Her tears dried up in the blink of an eye. Honey tossed her head back and glared at Dan. "Hey! That's not fair, Dan. I can keep a secret. Both of you know that I can. I've done it before."

"I'm not calling into question your ability to keep a secret," Dan assured her swiftly. "I'm simply pointing out that I don't think you've ever been able to keep a secret from Trixie."

Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened, then closed again. She started to talk, ended up sputtering, and then had to take a deep breath before she reluctantly admitted, "Oh, man. You've got me. I think you're right." She turned to Jim and promised him, "I will do my very best not to let Trixie know that you have something ultra-special planned for Saturday. I really and truly promise you that."

Jim squeezed his eyes shut. He loved his sister dearly but, out of all of the Bob-Whites who could potentially have found out about his plan, she was tied with Di on the last of the list. Cracking one eye open, he said, "I know you'll do your best, Honey. I would like to pull off the impossible and actually surprise Trix, though. It doesn't happen a lot."

Dan let loose with a series of deep chortles. "Good luck with that, Jim. It's not often that anyone can pull something over on her."

Satisfied that she would do the best that she possibly could to keep it a secret or, at the very best, not give everything away, Honey assured her brother, "She's going to say yes, Jim. You know she will. You two are going to get married. And everything is going to be the way it was meant to be. It's almost like I've been waiting for this moment ever since I met both of you. It's going to be magnificent!" Hands clasped together, she released a deep, happy sigh.

"Calm down, Honey," Jim ordered her quietly. "It's not a done deal yet. I still have to ask her. Then I need to hear Trixie's answer."

"All of Westchester County will hear her answer once you finally ask her," Dan remarked wryly and quite truthfully. "She'll probably break the sound barrier."

Honey could picture the scene perfectly in her mind and, needing some way to release her sudden supply of energy, popped up out of her seat. "It's wonderful, Jim! Just wonderful." She barely resisted the urge to jump up and down and settled instead for another sisterly hug. "I can't wait until Saturday night. I have a feeling it's going to be a life-altering night for you and for Trixie. It's going to be, well…"

"Wonderful," Dan finished helpfully for her, earning a small frown of annoyance from Honey.

"I hope so." Jim looked from his good friend to his sister and implored them again, "But, please, keep it quiet. I don't want her to know about it."

"I'll do my best." With eyes twinkling as brightly as the diamond hidden in the box, she pressed a swift kiss to her brother's cheek and whispered meaningfully, "Thanks for making my best friend my sister, too." Then, before she dissolved into a pile of sloppy tears, she departed from the room.

"Yeah. She's the weak link here. You can count on me not to say anything but I don't think you'll be able to rely on her," Dan decided after a moment. Arching an amused eyebrow, he added, in case Jim hadn't figured it out yet, "She's the one you've got to worry about, Jim."

"Don't I know it." Jim shook his head regretfully, a scowl working its way across his handsome face. "To make matters worse, she's spending the night with Trixie and Di tomorrow. Trix told me that when I stopped by to visit her today. They've been trying to plan a sleepover for the three of them but haven't been able to pull it together due to their different work schedules. They finally decided to have it tomorrow night, even though it is a week night."

Dan's even white teeth flashed. "Yeah. There's no way around it. I definitely have to say you're sunk. I'd be amazed if Honey doesn't spill it then." He sauntered towards the door and saluted his friend. "Have a good night, Jim. I'd wish you pleasant dreams but I somehow doubt you're going to have any over the next couple of nights."

Jim shut the door, blocking out the sound of his friend's laughter, and sat down at his desk. He slowly opened up the velvet box and took out the ring. He had almost convinced himself that he should buy her a new one but, when he had gone to the jewelry store to look at them a few months earlier, there hadn't been a single ring that had called out to him, not like this one here. It meant more to him, and more to them, than the largest and most ornate ring out there. It was so much more than a simple diamond. It was a memory of their first meeting, proof of their first adventure together, and a certain sign of how much they were meant to be together. "Saturday night," Jim mumbled to himself before putting the ring back in its box. It seemed a long way away.


	7. Chapter 7

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Six

With a wave to her older brother who was in the process of backing up and driving down the long driveway, Trixie raised a hand and pressed the doorbell. Mere seconds later, a testament to the tight household that the butler ran, the ornate front door opened. She smiled at Harrison when he stopped back to let her in. "Hello, Harrison," she greeted him as formally as she could manage but she couldn't pull it off. She was never able to. Her clothes worked against her this time, as did the slight sunburn across the bridge of her nose that only brought out her freckles. Dressed in a white tank-top, cut-off shorts that were fraying at the edges, and gray sneakers, with a dark blue backpack slung over her shoulder, she hardly looked like she was visiting and spending the night with the daughter of a millionaire.

Harrison felt his lips twitch but refused to let the smile show. They may have hit a few rough spots in the years that they had known each other but she had turned out to be one of his favorite friends of the oldest child in what he considered his family. "Miss Diana is waiting for you in her room," he replied, effortlessly using the formality their guest couldn't even begin to muster. "Miss Honey is already with her," he added helpfully when Trixie didn't make a move to enter the large and, to her, imposing house. He gestured with a flourish towards the formal staircase that would take her upstairs to Di's room.

"Yes, well, then, I'll head upstairs, then. Thanks, Harrison. Have a good night." She aimed a small wave in his direction and scurried past him into the formal foyer. The central air was welcomed and cooled her off immediately. Her sneakers didn't make a sound as she traveled along the smooth marble of the floor. During the long trek up the winding staircase and then down the never-ending hallway, she thought to herself how much she preferred living in a smaller house without any servants, even if she did have to put up with the summer heat. While she certainly did her share of complaining about chores, she would much rather have to do them herself than count on someone else to do them.

The girlish giggles seeping past the half-opened door told her where her friends were had she not already known the exact location of Di's room. Giving the door a gentle nudge, not even bothering to knock when she knew she was always welcome here, Trixie entered the room and flopped down on the nearest chair. "It's so good to be in a house with central air," she breathed out, pretending to fan herself with her hand. "The store was sweltering this evening. The few fans Mr. Lytell has running in that place didn't make much of a difference. To put it mildly, it was hot!"

Having finished painting her toenails a vibrant red to match her fingernails, Di closed the nail polish bottle and gingerly placed it off to the side. She grinned at Trixie from her spot on the floor. "I'm glad you could make it, Trix. We've missed you." She blew a stream of air on her toes and then shook her hands in that feminine ritual of attempting to make her polish dry faster.

Honey capped the clear nail polish she had used to top off her pretty pink polish, knowing it was useless to even offer it to Trixie. "Is everything still going well with you and Mr. Lytell?" she chimed in with a mischievous glint to her hazel eyes. Really, it was only a recipe for disaster, as far as she and the rest of the Bob-Whites were concerned. "No problems between the two of you yet?"

"So far, so good. He didn't come in again while I was working. Maybe our streak will continue and we'll be able to get along for the entire summer," Trixie replied with the same look on her face that Honey had. It was inconceivable that they would be able to make it through the summer without some kind of altercation. She dropped her bag over the edge of the chair and toed off her sneakers. "I had enough time to go home, change, and then throw a few things together in my bag. Brian dropped me off," she added with a sly wink at Honey.

Di quickly picked up on that little tidbit. She sat up and turned to face Honey, her intent clear and her eyes bright. "Did you hear that, Miss Wheeler? Brian dropped Trixie off at my house tonight. From what I understand, he's starting to become quite the chauffeur. Hasn't he offered to bring you to and from Dr. Ferris's office every day for the rest of the summer?" The question was straightforward and direct, leaving Honey no other choice but to fumble for an answer.

Instantly alert, Trixie shifted in her seat and stared hard at poor Honey, pathetically grateful to see someone else's face flare up with that blasted red color that seemed to affect her the most out of any of her friends for a change. "Really?" she breathed, drawing the word out. "I didn't know that." Brian hadn't mentioned anything about it in their time together in the car. "When did Brian make that offer?"

Honey tried to speak, stopped, started again but only ended up coming to a sputtering stop instead. She stared down at her fingers, aware that she wouldn't be able to ignore their questions or their teasing. After all, both had been her target more than once over the years for their feelings for their respective boyfriends. Giving up with a small shrug, she realized she didn't have the luxury to be coy and admitted reluctantly, "Brian mentioned the offer to me yesterday during our lunch break at work. But it wasn't for a romantic reason or anything like that, you know. Both of you have to know that. It's not a date or even remotely close to one or even with the hint of a possibility of a date. It's a car ride. That's all," she remarked hastily when neither looked convinced.

"I hope I don't offend you, Trix, but that brother of yours is not smooth in the least," Di remarked cheerfully, doing her best not to laugh and failing utterly. Her violet eyes danced with mirth while she recalled what Mart had told her last night on the phone. "Do you know the 'reason' why he asked Honey to drive with him to work each day?"

Honey snapped her hands on her hips and stared accusingly at her dark-haired friend. "Diana Lynch! How do you know all of this? I haven't told you. I haven't told anyone." Lips pursed, clearly not amused, she shook her head in amazement. "Unless you've managed to install hidden surveillance cameras in our houses, or, more accurately, in the break room at Dr. Ferris's office where Brian mentioned it to me, there's only one other way you could know."

Trixie supplied it for her with an unladylike snort and leaned her head down to whisper conspiratorially. "Mart. Let's face it. She's been brought over to the dark side, Honey. It seems to me that our pretty friend over there knows how to make that brother of mine talk."

Di batted her thick eyelashes, looking smug and happy, and shared complacently, with a small pat on her back, "He does seem to like telling me things more now that we are officially dating than he ever did before. It turns out that he has a wealth of information that he's simply dying to share with me."

Trixie gave a small shudder of distaste while images of what Mart could be telling Di gleefully danced through her head. She still had a hard time wrapping her mind around the fact that her brother was dating one of her close friends. Briefly wondering if Honey had that same problem with her dating Jim, she shook away the wayward thought before bringing her friends back to the subject at hand. "Wait a minute, Di. We're getting off track here. You, or Honey, or someone in this room, was going to tell me about my brother and how terribly 'smooth' he can, or, more accurately, cannot be. I'm waiting." She prompted them with a small wave of her hand.

"I'll do it," Di volunteered, letting out the trilling laugh she couldn't contain any longer. Wrapping an arm around Honey, who seemed to suddenly have a need to leave her spot on the floor, she said, "Well, I have it on good authority, as you both have guessed, that Brian offered the use of his 'vehicular chariot' or something like that to our good friend over here." Proud of herself for remembering some of the words Mart had spouted off at her, she tapped Honey's shoulder and kept her in place at the same time. "You see, Mart told me that Brian seems to think that carpooling will be a much more effective way for the two of them to get to town since they are working at the same place. According to Mr. Belden, your brother, not your father," she put in in an aside, "driving together would be much friendlier to the environment and it will help also help save on gas, too."

"Oh, dear Lord." Trixie was sure her face looked as horrified as she felt. Turning to Honey, she asked, aghast, "He didn't say that to you. Tell me he didn't say that to you. Did he?" She had to tack the question on, her voice full of shock. If he had, then she knew without a doubt that 'smooth' was not a term she could ever, ever, ever use to describe her brother.

"It was not quite that bad, girls, but, yeah, that's about what the gist of it was." Honey reached for a pretzel from the snack bowl on the floor to hopefully hide her flushed face from her friends. It had actually been sweeter than it sounded coming from Di via Mart. When he had made the offer during a lull in the break room at the office, during a time when it had only been the two of them in the room, Brian had been the complete opposite of his normal staid, sensible self. Nervous and tongue-tied, he had turned bright red himself and had begun stammering. He had been so cute and had made Honey start to wonder if maybe her feelings for him could actually be reciprocated. "We'll start riding in together next week," she mumbled out. "Tomorrow is Friday and Di is dropping me off at the office on her way to the museum."

Di and Trixie shared one last look of purely feminine amusement before they silently agreed as one to drop the subject. Both were curious to see if anything would come out of it. Di sent up a quick, inward prayer of thanks that Mart had more finesse than the eldest Belden. She greatly appreciated it even if she sometimes had trouble understanding everything that he said. Amusement gone, she shared, "I get to give a tour to a small group of preschoolers tomorrow. It's a mixed group of four-and five-year-olds from a local daycare center. It should be a lot of fun." Her tone was dry and said it all.

"You must be the one they were willing to sacrifice," Trixie noted with a small grin but she knew that Di could handle it. Having two sets of twin siblings gave her an edge that most of the workers at the museum did not have.

"I'll let you know if I survive," Di replied with a small shiver. "That's what happens when you're the last one hired."

Zipping open her backpack, Trixie reached in and took out her small mound of sleepwear. Then she stared at both of her friends as a small moment of silence descended over them. Holding her clothes in her hands, she questioned, "So, even though I was the last one here, I take it I haven't missed out on anything yet, right?" She stared down at the bottles of nail polish and hoped that neither wanted to put that stuff on her.

"Nope. Nothing." Honey gave a vehement shake of her head, refusing to bring up the fact that Brian had offered to be her ride to and from work for the rest of the summer again and that she had accepted it. "I only got here an hour ago myself because my parents came home early. They surprised both Jim and me. For some reason or other, they cut their business trip short and came home today instead of next week." She gave a small laugh.

"They probably missed you two too much. It's good that you get to see your mother and father again. I know you were hoping to spend a lot of time with them this summer before we all have to report to college in the fall." Trixie reached into the snack bowl that was balancing on an ottoman for a pretzel and paused to ask before popping it into her mouth. "Any reason why they came home early?"

"Not that I can think of," Honey lied as smoothly as she could. She had a pretty strong feeling why they had come home and risked a furtive glance at Trixie's left hand, noting to herself how ring-less it was. The grin wanted to come out but she resolutely bit down on the inside of her cheek, not letting it blossom, and choked back a small chuckle that sounded more like a grunt.

Her dark eyebrows snapped together. Di stared at Honey, getting the feeling for the first time that something was a little off about her friend but she decided not to push her on it. Yet. Honey knew…something. And that something was big, Di could tell. She only wished she could figure out what that something was. Planning to worm it out of her, she filed it away for later use, and brought the conversation back to Trixie, purposefully letting Honey think that she had successfully avoided the subject. "You work tomorrow, too, right?"

Stretching her legs out, Trixie sighed. She wasn't looking forward to an entire day and evening in the small, hot, and sweltering store. "All day long, unfortunately. I have the long shift tomorrow but I really can't complain. It all evens out in the end. Aubrey very nicely took my Saturday shift for me so that I could have the night off to go out with Jim. While tomorrow will be long and hot, having Saturday off will make up for it, I'm sure."

About to respond, Di was again distracted. She couldn't mistake the slightly inarticulate sounds Honey was making, as well as the blush that was back on her cheeks, and almost reluctantly glanced back at Trixie. She kept Honey within her sights the entire time. "It's hard to believe that you and Jim have been dating for two years. I would never have imagined that he would have been the first male Bob-White to get his act together. If the three of us had set up a betting pool when we were fourteen, I would have picked him as dead last for making a move."

"You okay, Honey?" Trixie frowned at Honey, who seemed to be choking on a pretzel. Concerned, she reached for a bottle of water and handed it over to her. Honey accepted it with a weak smile. "I don't know who I would have put my money on. I'm just grateful Jim was faster about it than you thought. Mart did come in second," she noted, turning back to look at Di.

"He may have come in second but it wasn't close. Jim beat him by a landslide," Di replied ruefully but her violet eyes were alight with interest. "We've only been dating since Christmas break. We are just coming up on the six-month mark, not two years. What do you have planned for your anniversary?"

Trixie's eyes sparkled as she admitted, "I don't know. All Jim has told me is a time. He's going to pick me up at five o'clock." She didn't add that she had a brand new dress hanging in her closet, simply waiting for the evening. It was short, blue, a little tighter than she normally preferred, and was the first dress she had owned that she actually couldn't wait to put on.

At the mention of Saturday night, Honey looked back and forth between her friends. The secret seemed to want to explode past her lips. She had to do something before it did. Caught between not wanting to tell what she knew about Jim's plans for Saturday night and the desire to not have either of them bring up Brian again, she suddenly burst out with, "Dan!"

Both Trixie and Di turned to stare at her, both dumbfounded and staggered by her sudden insertion in the conversation. "What?" they asked simultaneously.

"Well," she replied somewhat sheepishly, "Dan's always had an interesting social life. As far as we know, he's dated the most out of any of the other boys in our group. Shouldn't he come in second behind Jim?"

Di stared at her as if she had grown a second head at some point in the past two minutes and quickly decided that Honey was about as smooth as Brian. They would make an awesome couple, she thought before she found the words to respond. "We're talking about Bob-Whites dating Bob-Whites here, Honey," she stated calmly and carefully, as if she was talking to someone who could be considered legally insane. "As much as the three of us like Dan, none of us have ever wanted to date him. Judging by his successful string of willing girlfriends, he obviously feels the same way."

Trixie reached forward and pretended to take Honey's temperature. "It's normal, Di. For a moment there I was worried that she had picked up something from one of Dr. Ferris's patients. It's always busy in his office, you know. We don't have anything to worry about…I think," she tacked on cautiously.

Di eyed Honey even closer. She reached over and picked up Trixie's backpack. "Honey and I are already in our pajamas. Why don't you get ready for bed, Trix? Honey was about to show me the movie choices for the evening before you came in. We can watch at least one before we have to turn in for the night. It is a work night for all of us, after all. We can't stay up that late, not if we want to be able to function properly in the morning."

Trixie nodded her assent, rolled up her sleepwear and grabbed her backpack. "I'll be back out in a jiff!" Then she hurried into the attached bathroom. The door closed behind her with a smart click.

Doing her best not to look her friend in the eye, suddenly wishing she hadn't been so blatantly obvious in her movie choices, Honey stood up, got her overnight bag and offered it to Di. "Here you go, Di," she offered resignedly, worried about what her friends were going to think about the movies she had brought with her. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Funny. Amusing. Something that the three would be able to laugh about after Trixie told them the news on Sunday. Now she wasn't so certain. "You can take out the movies. I hope you like them." She climbed up on the one of the twin beds and picked up a heart-shaped lavender pillow, looking guilty, and barely resisted the urge to bury her face in the pillow.

Her suspicions were aroused even further. Almost afraid of what she would find, Di reached into the bag and pulled out the movies. One by one she laid them out on the bedspread, unable to come up with a thing to say. "Wow," seemed to encompass it all. She aimed an incredulous stare in Honey's direction. "It seems that you have managed to pick movies with a certain theme, haven't you?"

Honey ignored the rosy color that blossomed in each cheek. "I don't know what you're saying," she managed to get out with wide-eyed innocence although she was biting the inside of her lips to keep from laughing, whether from misplaced humor or a sudden bout of hysterics, she couldn't tell. She dropped her gaze and suddenly became very focused on plucking at the small white tag on the pillow.

Unaware of Honey's unease or Di's suspicions, Trixie came back in from the bathroom, dressed in an overly large NYU t-shirt that belonged to her boyfriend and threatened to swallow her whole and thin grey cotton shorts that barely peeped out from the end of the shirt. She stared first from Di, who couldn't seem to take her eyes off of Honey, to Honey, who seemed fascinated with a pillow, and came to a quick halt. "This time I know I missed something," she finally declared, a hand on her hip. "What was it?"

"I think we're going to have to assign someone else the chore of choosing movies for our next sleepover," Di replied wryly and gestured towards the movies residing on her bed, trusting her intuition when it told her not to interrogate Honey in front of Trixie. "Take a good look, Trix. While they are all good movies and movies I certainly like, they all seem to have a certain theme running through them. You can't miss it."

Always excited by a puzzle, even one that was purportedly simple, Trixie hurried over to the bed and frowned down at the titles, catching on very quickly. "Honey!" she gasped, holding her sides to keep her laughter inside. "What on earth were you thinking about?"

"I would say that's clearly obvious," Di put in with an angelic expression on her face.

Unable to do anything else, Honey finally released her laughter and fell back against the thick pillows on Di's bed, her long hair billowing out around her. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I admit it. I clearly wasn't thinking when I chose our movies but I figured with two of us in serious relationships it would be appropriate. We don't have to watch any of them, not if you don't want to. You won't hurt my feelings if you decide on something else."

Trixie picked up _Runaway Bride_ and gestured towards the other wedding-themed movies. _My Best Friend's Wedding, Four Weddings and a Funeral, Father of the Bride, and The Wedding Singer _were spread out on the light purple bedspread. "Next time go for a little more variety, okay, Honey?" she asked and dropped down next to her friend. "Wedding movies are fine but I know for a fact that none of us are going to get married anytime soon."

About to agree, Di got a close look at Honey's face. She almost called her on it. Almost. But that suspicion began to grow even bigger and she was suddenly extremely proud of herself for not asking Honey about it. She knew. She just knew what Honey was trying her best to keep from them. Then she heard Trixie's voice break into her thoughts.

Completely ignorant to the undercurrents flowing like water between Di and Honey, Trixie continued, "But we can't take you up on your offer, Honey. We've never gone against the person whose job it is to bring the movies to a sleepover before. Therefore, we are honor-bound to watch one of your choices, Miss Wheeler, no matter what you say or how hard you insist on it."

Honey giggled again and did not meet Di's eyes. She couldn't. She was afraid if she did she would spill it all. "They're all good movies but I'll let either you or Di pick the one we are going to have the pleasure of watching tonight."

Di was rapidly trying to figure out a way to get Trixie out of the room again. The need to interrogate Honey was growing but she couldn't find out a single way to kick their friend out of the room. She was already dressed for bed. Damn, Di thought to herself. "I'll defer to Trix," she finally said.

Trixie picked up _My Best Friend's Wedding _and held it up with a triumphant giggle. "Since I know this has always been one of your favorites, Honey, we'll go with this one. I wouldn't be surprised if this is the one that you secretly wanted to watch." Taking a spot on the bed next to Honey, she handed the movie over to Di.

Needing something to do to quench her suspicions, Di grabbed the DVD and popped it into her player before settling on the bed on the other side of Trixie. Her attention wasn't on the movie; not in the least. She couldn't keep her mind on it. Instead, Di kept sending furtive glances over Trixie's curly head to Honey, who did her best to focus on the movie and ignored her.

Honey couldn't take it any longer. She hated feeling like she was trapped. It finally came to her, the way that she could divert Di's attention and hopefully keep her promise to Jim at the same time. She suddenly reached for the remote and hit the pause button. Then she stood up to make her announcement. The heart-shaped pillow she had been clutching through the entire movie like a lifeline fell to the floor, forgotten. "You know, I think we have a problem here, ladies."

Trixie stared at Honey and barely resisted the urge to throw the popcorn at her. "Come on, Honey," she complained. "It's getting close to the part where they sing in the restaurant. That's the best part of the entire movie. Can't this problem of yours wait until after the movie?"

"It could but I might forget it. You know me. I sometimes forget things." Her giggle had an edge to it that left Trixie staring at her curiously and Di trying her best not to laugh her way under the bed. Ignoring them both, overlooking the fact that both of her friends thought that she was acting like some kind of an imbecile, Honey decreed fiercely, "I think we need to get it settled right now." Retaking her seat, she sat cross-legged on her bed. Then she reached over and grabbed a pad of lavender paper and a purple pen with a bit of sparkly, feathery fluff at the top of it from the nightstand. "The movie reminded me of something, girls. I wouldn't be surprised if Di has already come to this conclusion." She inclined her head to the side and considered Trixie. "You may not have realized it yet, though, Trix."

"Gleeps, thanks." Unsure whether to be flattered or insulted, she turned to Di and asked incredulously, "You even have purple pens and paper?" She reached over and flicked the bits of purple feathers at the top of the pen.

"Of course," Di replied before she nudged her blonde friend with her shoulder. "But we need to pay attention to Honey and forget about my choice of stationary. She's starting to look a little perturbed. Let's find out what she wants to tell us." Di pulled herself up and settled next to Honey.

"Perturbed?" Trixie whispered under her breath. "That's a Mart word if I've ever heard of one."

"Shh," Di shushed her, giving her undivided attention to Honey.

"Thank you, Diana Lynch. I appreciate you getting the unruly one in our midst under control." Honey gave a regal bow of her head. "Now, let's get back to the matter at hand. There are three of us. Even though math was never a favorite subject of any of us, we can all agree that three is an odd number, right?" Honey looked at each friend for confirmation.

"It's a good thing the boys aren't here," Trixie murmured to Di. "They would be hooting with laughter by now." She could almost hear the four of them. She would have been hard-pressed not to join in with them.

"Give her a chance," Di ordered her forcefully.

Trixie rolled her eyes. "I suppose…if I have to," she replied in a long-suffering tone that only a true friend could really appreciate and overlook.

"Again, I must thank Di. Trixie, I'm suddenly beginning to understand how your teachers felt all those years in high school." Honey called attention back to herself by rapping her pen on top of the pad. "As I was saying, we have a problem. There are three of us and we are all best friends. That makes a big problem when it comes time to pick out maids of honors for our own weddings, don't you think?"

Instantly serious, Di stopped laughing and offered the problem the same consideration that the world leaders used when trying to figure out important ways to help out afflicted areas around the globe. "Oh, Honey!" she gasped in a tone mixed with awe and astonishment. "You're right! But you're also wrong. Believe it or not, I have never thought about that before," she replied.

Trixie stared at both of them like they had gone insane. Giving a small shake of her head, she tried to clear it. It didn't work. "None of us are even close to getting married," she scoffed back. "We just graduated from high school and we're on our way to our first semester in college. I don't think marriage is on any of our minds." But it was. She had more than once considered what it would be like to be married to Jim. She wouldn't admit it but her thoughts went far, far beyond her first semester of college.

Honey coughed into her hand, an odd light to her eyes that Trixie completely missed but confirmed Di's thoughts. "I don't mean that anyone of us are getting married tomorrow, Trix," she explained with the tact she was known for. "I'm referring to that magical point somewhere in the future. Weddings will happen, you know," she put in gently. "They will. I know they will."

Getting into the spirit of the discussion, Di interjected smoothly and encouragingly, "You must already have a plan, don't you, Honey? Come on. Let's hear it." She grabbed the pen from Honey and brandished it at her.

Honey tossed back her head. "This is what I think we should do. Since there are three of us and we are all best friends, we need a system to pick our maid of honor. We should each have one chance to do it. We'll each write down our names…"

"Then we'll fold up the papers, put them in a box, and pick out a name!" Di finished for her excitedly, bouncing up and down on the bed. "Oh, this is going to be so much fun! The person we pick will be our maid of honor!"

"It's not exactly what I would call 'fun' but, whatever," Trixie murmured with a small shrug of the shoulder. "If you two want to do it, then I guess I'm all for it." She tilted her head, wondering why Di and Honey seemed so excited about the process.

"You should be." Di didn't look at Trixie. She stared at Honey instead, telling her plainly without words that she knew about Jim's intentions. "I wouldn't be surprised if you're the first one to don that white dress, Trix. You've dated the longest out of any of us." When Honey's eyes widened, Di knew she was right. Her smile was wide, satisfied, and brilliant, but she didn't bring it up. Instead, she handed the pen over to Trixie. "Keep that fascinating mind of yours busy, Trix, and write down our names on separate pieces of paper. We'll choose our maids of honor next."

Honey blew out a relieved breath when she realized that Di wasn't going to bring it up in front of Trixie. She mouthed a 'thank you' and then watched Trixie scrawl out their names on three separate pieces of paper in her rather messy and almost illegible handwriting. "Here," Honey said helpfully. She grabbed a small square box decorated with seashells from Di's trip to the beach last summer and gave it to Trixie. "You can put the papers in here."

Trixie barely held back the grumble but did as she was told. The three pieces were folded up into tiny squares and placed in the box in a matter of seconds. She held the box out to Honey. "Since this is your idea, you can go first."

Honey accepted the box with a small smile. Looking into the faces of her friends, she reached in and pulled out a paper. "It's…Honey," she announced, feeling anti-climactic and deflated. "It figures I would pull out my own name, seeing as how I'm the only one without a boyfriend," she lamented with a sigh.

Trixie took the paper and folded it back up, starting to get into the feel of the moment. "Try again, Honey. You can't go wrong this time," she encouraged her. She leaned forward, her blonde head touching Di's, as they watched Honey slowly reach in and pull out the next piece of paper.

Honey chewed on her bottom lip, removing the last traces of her lipstick, and announced breathlessly after opening it, "Trixie!" She threw her arms around Trixie and held on tight, more than pleased about her pick. She would never have admitted it aloud but she wanted Trixie for hers. It felt right. "You'll be my maid of honor."

Di clapped for her friends and reached for the box. "My turn next," she stated strongly and wasted no time pulling out the next name. Staring at her friends, she read with a happy gleam to her eyes, "Honey, you're mine!"

"Which means that Di will be my maid of honor," Trixie said before she pulled out the last piece of paper. When she did, she gave her friend the obligatory embrace, completing their triangle. "This was more fun than I expected it to be."

"Now that we have our maids of honor taken care of, we can take care on the more important things," Di said. She smiled warmly at her friends. "You know, like actually getting a fiancé."

The most practical of the group, Trixie rolled her eyes and didn't notice the small, choking sound that Honey was desperately trying to stifle. "I still think we're a little far away from all that." Placing the pad and pen back on the nightstand, she missed the delighted looks that her friends shared behind her back.

Di nearly jumped for joy when she heard the telltale sound of Trixie's cell phone. "It's your phone!" she called out overly brightly and practically fell over Trixie in her attempt to pull it out of the backpack herself.

Trixie sat back on her heels and accepted the phone from Di with a peculiar look. "Thanks, Di," she said dryly. "I wouldn't have been able to find it without you." Then she glanced at the caller id and frowned, her amusement gone. "It's Aubrey," she told the others and stood up from the bed before answering the call. "Hello?" she said into the phone and walked towards the other end of the large and spacious bedroom.

Di used the distraction to pull on Honey's arm. "Tell me, Honey," she hissed out, staring at Trixie's back. "You've got to tell me. Is Jim going to do what I think he's going to do?"

Honey's smile gave the answer. "Saturday night," she confirmed, relieved to be able to share the news with someone. She also kept one eye on Trixie and her voice low. "But you can't tell anyone, especially Mart. He wouldn't be able to keep the secret. Then there's the simple fact that Jim would kill me if he found out that I told you. I don't want to think what he would do if Trixie found out before he had the chance to ask her."

She crossed her heart and vowed seriously, too happy for their friends, "I won't say a word, not even to Mart." Then she noticed the crestfallen look on Trixie's face and felt a wealth of sympathy well up within her for her friend. "Uh-oh," she said worriedly. "That doesn't look good, Honey. Something's wrong with Trix."

Honey snapped her head around. It wasn't hard to see that Trixie was extremely disappointed. It was visible in her overly expressive face, as well as the defeated lines of her body. "You're right. It doesn't look good." She clamored off the bed and was at Trixie's side in three long strides, Di on her heels.

"I understand," Trixie muttered into the phone, doing her best to keep her unhappiness out of her voice. She smoothed back a curl and tried to speak calmly. "No, of course not, Aubrey. Thanks anyway. Good luck." She couldn't say anything else and ended the call. "It's not good," she declared, her voice husky with misery, after a small moment of shared silence.

"We didn't think so," Di murmured and then sighed, her earlier jubilation fading away quickly. She came up on the other side of Trixie and placed a soothing hand on her back. "What happened?"

"It's not as horrible as it could be. Aubrey certainly has it worse than I do." Trixie released a pent-up sigh and got it out as quickly as she could. "She called to tell me that she can't work on Saturday for me. She has to leave tomorrow morning with her family to go upstate. Her grandmother's sick and was just admitted into the hospital. They're afraid that she's not going to live much longer."

Honey realized what it meant. "Oh, Trixie," she mumbled sympathetically. "That's awful, just plain awful."

Trixie blinked back a few prickly tears, uncertain what she should do. She couldn't not work the shift. It wasn't in a Belden to back out on a commitment, no matter what the reason was. She couldn't cancel out on Jim. It seemed like a fine mess she found herself in, one she wasn't sure how to fix, and one where she was unable to make a solution that would satisfy everyone all around. "I could always ask Mr. Lytell if he could close the store early on Saturday," she mentioned aloud, her voice thin, straggly, and despondent.

"He won't go for that," Di surmised correctly, knowing that not even powerful displays from nature such as blizzards or hurricanes would make Mr. Lytell close his store. "He won't," she repeated when her friends stared at her.

Then Honey got an idea. It came at her so quickly she wondered why she hadn't thought of it right away. "Hey, I know!" she said excitedly. She grabbed Trixie's hand and started jumping up and down. She would do anything for Trixie. "I know exactly how to solve it."

"I can't be in two places at once," Trixie remarked sarcastically, shoulders slumped and feeling defeated.

"No, you can't," Honey agreed with a cheerfulness that neither of the other girls understood. "But I've got the best solution ever. It is for the best, you'll see, and it will work out for both you, Jim and Mr. Lytell."

Trixie wiped away a hated tear that had managed to seep downwards and felt a smidgeon of hope flare up within her. Honey looked too thrilled and happy to have not come up with a winning solution. "What…what's your idea, Honey?"

"I can work for you!" She clasped her hands together and smiled serenely at her friends, already to make the sacrifice. "I can work on Saturday for you. You know Mr. Lytell wouldn't mind it. He offered me any shifts that I would be able to work during the summer. I haven't been able to take him up on it since I've spent the days at Dr. Ferris's office. I can work for you. Then you can still keep your special date with Jim."

The hope took over, mixing with the relief that was beginning to wash over her. "Are you certain you wouldn't mind, Honey? I mean, your parents just came home. I bet they'd want to see you."

Honey waved her aristocratic hands in the air. "Don't worry about that, Trix. Maybe you'll work the first few hours. Then I'll stop in and you can give me a refresher course on how the store operates. I'm a little rusty. After that, you can go home and get ready for your anniversary date." Her eyes started to shine like the stars in the sky while her laughter sparkled out. "It's a terrific idea, Trixie. It will work."

"If you are absolutely, positively sure…" Trixie tried not to accept Honey's suggestion too eagerly. It was such a generous and lovely offer and it would solve everything perfectly. And it showed how big a heart her friend had.

Honey pulled Trixie into an embrace, a pleased laugh trilling out of her. "Hey, it's the least I could do for my maid of honor," she announced, fighting back the sentimental and almost hysterical urge to cry. It wasn't a hard thing for her to do. "I want to do it for you and for Jim. We'll work out the particulars later."

Trixie hugged her back. Hard. "Oh, thanks, Honey. I didn't know what to do. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

"I'm happy to help." Honey tucked back a loose strand of hair and thought about the surprise Jim had planned for Trixie. She shared a secret smile with Di before declaring, "I'm more happy than you could ever know. It's going to be a perfectly perfect night for you!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Seven

Avoiding the glare of the hot summer sun, Trixie shaded her eyes from the front porch of the counter store. Brian carefully nosed the car out of the driveway, leaving a trail of dust in its wake as he drove along Glen Road. She waved after two of her brothers and watched it until it was well out of sight. Then she reached for the broom and began a series of halfhearted sweeping motions, brushing away the little bit of dirt and dust that had managed to accumulate on the floorboards of the old country store. The day was going by at a snail's pace, much to her displeasure. She had only been at work for a handful of hours but it felt like much longer.

Tiny beads of sweat gathered on her forehead. She brushed them away and then glanced up as a car slowly drove past the store. Inclining her head to the side, she watched its progress as it went by. From her position on the porch, she couldn't tell anything about the driver; the windows were closed, tinted and seemed to be dirty. All she could make out was the color and shape. A dark brown sedan, old and weary-looking, covered with patches of rust and a healthy looking dent in the bumper. She couldn't put her finger on it but its presence made her edgy, most likely because she couldn't identify the owner of it. When the car traveled past the driveway to the store without stopping, Trixie released a pent-up breath of air she hadn't realized she had been holding and squinted her eyes after it, watching the car as it traveled away. After carefully replacing the broom in its proper spot back against the side of the building, she went back inside, keeping one eye out on the now-empty road. Laughing at her overly active imagination, glad that Mart hadn't been around to witness her preoccupation with the car, she retook her spot behind the counter and became immersed in the old newspaper she know knew by heart.

Five minutes later, the small bell attached to the screen door jingled as a new customer walked into the small and nearly deserted store. Trixie's head shot up immediately. She felt a bright smile bloom across her face and yelled excitedly, her voice cutting through the silence of the room that was broken only by the whir of two standing rotating fans and a leisurely moving ceiling fan, "Honey! You're here!" Staring at the old clock hanging on the wall, she added, slightly shocked, "And you are really, really early. You don't have to be here for another half hour, at least. It's not even one-thirty yet."

Dressed in a light cotton dress to help combat the warmth that collected easily within the store despite the fans, the open windows, and the screen door, Honey walked quickly over to the counter, casually brushing aside a stray strand of hair that had escaped from her ponytail. "Hi," she said with a cheerful smile on her face and put her hands on the counter. "I wanted to get here as early as I could. Has it been a busy day today?"

"Let's see," Trixie mused, starting to tick off the amount of customers she had helped on her fingers. "Mrs. Elliott came in right after I opened up for some milk and bread. The Lynches stopped by for a carton of ice cream about an hour later. I think it was for Larry and Terry. Mr. Maypenny actually came in to visit but he didn't buy anything. He only wanted the company. He didn't say it but I think he was feeling a bit lonely since Dan was asked to work at the police station today."

"We always made sure to stop by and visit his cabin during this past year, after Dan went away to college. He missed him an awful lot." Honey then remarked after carefully considering Dan's work schedule, "I think it's smart of Sergeant Molinson to let him work different hours and different shifts at the station. It's good for Dan. He'll be used to the odd hours that officers have to work when he becomes an official police officer in a few years." Studying the display of candy bars, plastic jars of lollipops, and a small wire rack of local maps, Honey reached out and began to thoughtfully rearrange them.

Giggling under her breath, Trixie put a restraining hand on hers and shook her head, sending her blonde curls dancing with the quick movement. "Don't do it, Honey," she advised her wisely. "Don't move a thing in here, even if you think it would make the place more aesthetically pleasing. Don't touch anything, no matter what. Mr. Lytell doesn't like to have his things moved without his permission. Poor Aubrey found that out the hard way." Trixie was grateful she hadn't been the one to swap the newspapers with the magazine rack that sat in front of the counter.

Honey arched an eyebrow and then reluctantly replaced the items, hiding a small sigh. Her way would have freed up more counter space. Bringing up the customers again, she wondered a bit wistfully, hoping that most of the inhabitants of Glen Road hadn't been accounted for yet, "Has anyone else been in to see you?" She wanted to have company during her hours at the store. As she was well-aware from her friend, any shift at the quiet country store had the potential to be extremely boring.

"There was a family who were lost and needed directions back to the highway. I hope I gave them good ones." Trixie grimaced, knowing that handing out directions was not a strong point of hers. "Then Brian and Bobby popped in about an hour ago. They each had an ice cream sandwich, chatted with me for about forty-five minutes, and then left to head on home." Trixie stared up at the ceiling, unable to recall anyone else coming into the store. "That's been it. You are the last person to walk through that door. It's been really quiet around here, even for a Saturday." She slipped off the stool she had been perched on and grabbed Honey's hand to take her behind the counter. "I doubt if there will be anyone else coming in for a while so I can give you a refresher course right now on how everything operates. That is, if you are absolutely positive you don't mind doing this for me?" It was meant to be a statement but came out sounding more like a question. Trixie lifted both her eyebrows and waited for Honey's response.

Honey blew out a small, frustrated breath, gifted Trixie with a long-suffering look of pure exasperation, and tapped a sandaled foot against the floorboards worn flat from years of use by the storey's loyal customers. "Trixie, I swear, if you ask me that one more time, I'm going to have to lie to you and tell you yes and then I'm going to turn around and leave you to spend the rest of the day and night here at the store. Jim will have to cancel your plans, whatever they happen to be, and then he's going to have to stop in here and stay with you until closing time. It will be one heck of a way to spend your anniversary."

"Okay, okay." Trixie gave in gracefully, chuckling lightly, and pointed to the cash register. It was relatively new, bought right after the incident with Laura Ramsey and her partner when Mr. Lytell had made a few changes, and was in direct contrast to some of the other relics in the store. "We'll start with the cash register first. It's not hard at all. I added in a new roll of paper, too, so you won't have to worry about that." After instructing Honey on the ins and outs of the register, Trixie bent down and showed her a small black button hidden under the counter. "Do you see this, Honey?"

Honey crouched down and nodded, concentrating more on trying to remember how to work the cash register than pondering the existence of a button that looked tiny and insignificant. "Yeah, I do. What is it for?"

"Mr. Lytell made a few improvements after the affair with Laura Ramsey." Trixie practically spat out the name. The envy and jealousy she had experienced during that time still had the power to embarrass and overwhelm her. None of the memories she had of that particular adventure made her feel happy or content. Ignoring them, she recalled how Mr. Lytell had shared with her that he had installed the security system and the help button at the same time. "Anyway, after that experience, he decided that it was time to update the store so he put in a security system. I'll show you how to work that before I leave, too. Should there be any problems in the store, you could push this button right here and it would alert the dispatcher at the police station that the police are needed at the store."

"That's good to know. I'm sure I'll need to use it today. You know, there must be so many shifty characters coming through this store." Eyes sparkling with laughter, Honey filed it away, although she doubted if there would be a need to do something like that in the store and then became serious again when Trixie didn't join in her laughter, only looked at her with one raised eyebrow. Sighing, surprised that her friend hadn't found her joke humorous even with the astonishing amount of shady characters the two of them had managed to defeat during the course of their friendship, many of them right here in Sleepyside, she declared seriously, "Got it, Trix. What's next?"

"Come with me." Trixie took her hand and brought her into the backroom, thinking about the important tasks she needed to go over with Honey. The room was surprisingly large. Unpacked boxes of supplies were meticulously stacked, waiting to be stocked on the shelves out in the store. A neat and well-organized desk rested against one wall, located underneath the lone window it the room. The plain brown curtains billowed with the light breeze. They stopped by the desk. "Mr. Lytell doesn't keep a lot of cash on hand anymore, either. I don't have to tell you why. As you can see, the safe is long gone. He stores his money at the bank now. He learned his lesson the hard way and has finally come to completely trust the banking system."

"It's a good thing that Mr. Lytell has made so many changes to help protect his store." Honey studied the items on the desk. Everything was tidy and stored in its own place. There was a pad of paper, an old mug with a picture of the Statue of Liberty on it serving as a pencil and pen holder, a phone, and a large black box. "What do you need to show me in here?"

"Again, I highly doubt you will need it since the customer flow could best be called a trickle, if that, but Mr. Lytell keeps exactly fifty dollars in change in this box." Trixie held up the key, which was still attached to the box, and opened it up. "See? If someone would give you a larger bill and there wasn't enough change in the cash register, you could come back here to get the change. Should you need to do that, you would have to write down how much you took out and put it inside the box. Mr. Lytell will want to know."

"That sounds simple." Then a horrible thought occurred to Honey. Gasping, she put a hand on Trixie's shoulder. "Oh, no, Trix! Most people rarely carry cash anymore. Don't they? You're going to have to show me how to work that debit/credit card thingy." The thought of it was daunting and filled Honey with dread. First, she hoped she didn't have to use it. Handling money had to be easier than swiping a card. Second, she hoped that she didn't make a mistake with that one. Wouldn't it be awful to charge someone fifty dollars on a five dollar purchase? she thought to herself, shuddering at the possibility and feeling incompetent.

"Hey, if I can handle it, you can, too," Trixie assured her swiftly, recognizing the strange gleam in Honey's eyes. It had been on her face the first time she had tried to use the machine, too. "It's not that difficult at all. If you can handle the cash register, you'll do fine with it." Trixie led the way back to the counter where she went over the simple steps again, hoping to ease Honey's fears. "Do you see how it works, Honey? As Mr. Lytell so kindly told me when he showed me how to use it, it's practically idiot-proof."

A startled giggle worked its way out. "He said that to you?" Honey eyed the contraption and felt much better, just as Trixie had hoped she would. "If I can't figure it out during the heat of the moment, Trix, I'll offer to pay for the groceries myself. Wouldn't that be funny? Maybe I'll end up spending more than I earn today!"

Trixie laughed with her, imagining what the customers would think about such a surprising proposition, and then leaned up against the counter, her arms crossed and the most grateful look on her expressive face. "Although I know you don't want me to bring it up again, Honey, I have to tell you how much this means to me. Thank you so much for being willing to take over for me. Mr. Lytell was just tickled when I told him that you were going to be working for me today. You know you've always been his favorite out of all of us, right? I think he's secretly hoping that you'll become enamored with the store, give up your job at Dr. Ferris's office, and spend the rest of the summer here."

Honey airily waved away the thanks. "Trixie, enough with the thank-yous. Once was enough." She took her seat on the stool and picked up the newspaper, copying the same pose Trixie had been in when she had entered the store, and did her best to look as if she was busy. Swallowing down another giggle, she questioned teasingly, "Do I look official enough?"

"Definitely." Trixie moved over to the window, glanced out the open window at the empty parking lot and then frowned. "Hey, Honey? How did you get here?"

"Tom dropped me off. He was driving my mother in to do some shopping downtown." Honey finally noted the date on the newspaper and exclaimed, stunned, "Oh, wow! This is Thursday's paper. Last Thursday's paper!" She was quick to add in a humorous voice.

"We're always up to date here with what the employees get to read. There's a _People _magazine from last fall over in the corner. I know it by heart by now." Trixie pointed out wryly. Then she cocked her head to the side and brought up the more important subject at hand. "Have you thought about how you're going to get home, Honey?"

Honey shrugged a slim and careless shoulder. "I guess I'll call the house when it's time to close up the store. How do you usually get home?" she questioned curiously.

Trixie waved in the general direction of her bike. It was leaning up against the side of the building and couldn't be seen from their vantage point. "I generally ride my bike to and from the store. Sometimes, when my brothers are either feeling overly generous or when they think it has to be too hot for my delicate system, one of them will stop by and drive me home. You probably remember that Brian did that after my Thursday shift so that I could get to Di's earlier for our sleepover."

"It's a shame that the old Bob-White station wagon ended up having to be totaled after we crashed it this past winter." Honey released a small sigh, thinking about the car with fond memories. It hadn't been replaced yet. "We could certainly have used it now."

Trixie couldn't get over the fact that neither the Lynches or the Wheelers had supplied either of their daughters with a car of their own yet. It either showed how much each family wanted their children to be raised without the influence of their wealth or the fact that both sets of parents were still scared about letting their daughters get behind the wheel again. She figured it was a mixture of both. "Better the car than us," she responded finally, remembering the accident from the winter a few months earlier. All three girls had been in the car at the time, heading home when school had let out early due to the arrival of an unexpected snowstorm. Honey had been at the wheel; it had been Honey's turn to drive. Without warning, she had hit a patch of black ice. The car had swung out of control and had managed to collide with a tree. Unfortunately, the tree had won the battle. The car had been mangled beyond repair. It was amazing that none of the girls had been hurt. They had walked away with a few minor cuts and bruises.

"I do miss that old station wagon." Honey gave another wistful sigh and then offered, "But I'll call someone to come and get me when it's time to come home."

"You won't have to use the payphone outside. There's a phone in the back room, too. Mr. Lytell lets us make short, local calls. He won't mind it if you call from there," Trixie shared quickly. "He would be absolutely delighted to know that someone had to call the Manor House!" she remarked playfully, thinking about the owner's partiality for a certain member of the staff living there.

"Trix, think!" she chastised her gently. "You've got to know what century we are in by now. I can always use my cell!" Honey pulled it out of her purse and started laughing. "Isn't it funny that we once had to rely on payphones? I actually can't remember the last time I had to use one."

"Me, neither. Oh, I think there's one more thing I need to show you in the back room!" As a light bulb went off in her mind, Trixie grabbed her friend's hand and hastily took her back into the room. "I can't believe I almost forgot the most important part of your job today. It's imperative that you set the security system before you leave. Mr. Lytell has a fit if one of us forgets to do it. Luckily, I haven't forgotten about it. Aubrey didn't set it properly the first time she was here and he was not happy at all. So, now it's time for you to master the art of the security system. Are you ready for it?"

Honey stared at the keypad with growing trepidation and felt a small shiver work its way across her back. Small, gray, in the shape of a rectangle, with all the necessary numbers that she had learned before starting elementary school, as well as a few other imposing buttons, she found herself stymied. And intimidated. Very, very intimidated. "Ah, Trixie?" she began cautiously. "I think you're going to need to show me how it works and then write it down for me. I don't like the looks of it. And I don't want to make a mistake with it."

"Don't worry. It's super-simple, just like everything else I've shown you today. You'll catch on in no time at all," Trixie explained firmly. She told Honey the security code, showed her how to punch it in and then activate it, and then explained that she had to make certain that the door was locked before leaving the building from the back room. "It's not that hard, Honey. You'll have to move quickly once you enter the code and set the system but, other than that, take your time and you'll be fine."

"You're leading your friend down a path to certain disaster. You missed a step, Trixie. From what I understand about security systems, it's an extremely important and vital piece," a familiar voice announced from the open doorway. "Although I am not terribly surprised by your forgetfulness. I have often wondered about the size of your cranium, as I have lamented many times before."

Hands on her hips, Trixie glanced up at the ceiling and counted to ten. He made it a point to stop by a few times a week. She had been hoping to miss out on a visit from her most obnoxious brother. Turning around, a pained look on her face, she greeted him without the least bit of enthusiasm, "Mart. So good to see you. To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"

He could almost see the sarcasm drip off of her words and rocked back on his heels, delighted as always to poke fun at her, "Just seeing how the lessons are going, Trix. I hope you aren't making a mess out of it. And I sincerely hope that you are a much better teacher than you were a student. If you aren't, then I imagine our dear friend and fellow Bob-White here is in for quite a time today."

"Cut it out, Mart!" Trixie ordered him sharply, noticing the color draining out of Honey's face at his words. "You aren't helping matters out at all."

Mart had forgotten that Honey was even in the room. He muttered a small, "Sorry, Honey," before stepping back from the threshold of the doorway. But he didn't offer any recantations of his words. It was simply too much fun to tease his sister.

Honey took a deep breath, telling herself it wasn't going to be that hard to take care of the store and that Mart was only being his normal, joking self. She was a high school graduate, on her way to attending NYU as a freshman in the fall, and her best friend in the entire world didn't have any difficulty watching over the store. Acknowledging Mart's apology with a smile and a nod, she brought up what he had said before. "Mart, you mentioned that there was something else I was going to have to do with the security system. What is it?"

"You'll have to make certain that the doors and windows are all closed and locked before engaging the system," he responded simply, not wanting to worry Honey even more than she already was, and gifted Trixie with a superior look.

Trixie thanked him with a sheepish grin, overlooking his look of male superiority for Honey's sake. "You're right, Mart. I forgot that step." When she saw that Honey was still looking overwhelmed and rather wary, Trixie grabbed a pencil and some paper from the desk. "I'll write it down for you, Honey. I'll keep it nice and simple. It won't take but a minute."

"Write neatly. Please," Honey pleaded softly, her voice taking on the tone of one who had absorbed too much information at once, and thought about the monstrosity that was Trixie's handwriting. "Remember, I have to be able to read it when you're finished. I won't have you here to walk me through it." Giving Trixie the privacy to complete her task, she headed out of the room and stood next to Mart at the entrance to the room.

"It is brilliant of you to remind that sister of mine to utilize a tidy and precise handwriting. Normally I would refer to her handwriting as more of a scribble or a scrawl," Mart told her with a sly look at his sister who had her curly head bent over the desk and didn't seem to be paying the least bit of attention to them. "She does have the worst handwriting out of all of us. If it wasn't for the fact that her brain is better equipped for the pursuit of mysteries instead of medical school, one would think that she should be the one to pursue a medical degree in our family instead of Brian. She possesses the handwriting for it. Brian will have to take lessons from her to assist him with his perfect penmanship."

Honey shook her head at his foolishness. "Don't tease her too much, Mart," she whispered under her breath after hearing Trixie's unladylike and annoyed grunt. She grabbed his elbow and brought him away from the doorway. They ended up back at the counter. "Let her get ready for her date in peace. Promise me."

Mart couldn't look away from the hazel eyes that were boring a hole through him. Di had already managed to wrangle a promise out of him to leave Trixie alone as much as he possibly could. Now Honey was asking the same thing. Giving in, he reluctantly decided he could give his sister one night free from his favorite pursuit of brotherly teasing. Holding up the time-honored Boy Scout sign, he pledged truthfully, "I'll echo the words I have already given Di. I promise, Honey. I won't agitate her any further."

Honey considered him and then took his words at face-value. "Good, Mart. She deserves a nice night with Jim."

He literally had to swallow back a rather inappropriate retort that threatened to slip past his lips when he watched his sister rejoin Honey. Telling himself that he could do it, that he didn't need to poke fun at her, he stalked over to the case to get a bottle of water. Going easy on Trixie was going to be harder than he thought, he realized grimly and sighed.

When he came back, he held up his bottle. "I can be your first customer, Miss Wheeler." He put it on the counter, being careful not to look Trixie in the eye until he had his wayward sense of humor under control. "You can practice on me, Honey. I'll go easy on you."

With a look of intense concentration on her face, Honey gingerly picked up the bottle of water. Then she typed in the amount of the bottle, looked shocked when the register added in the tax for her, and accepted Mart's money for it, proud of herself for completing the task quickly and without a problem. "That was simple," she said with a nod.

"Ah, Honey?" Trixie broke in when Mart opened and closed his mouth, for once at a complete loss as to what to say. She knew he didn't care about the change but neither of them wanted Honey to make the same mistake with someone else. It would only embarrass Honey to no end. As gently as she could, she explained, "Mart should get some change back."

The blush that rose in her cheeks had nothing to with the heat the building managed to contain. Mumbling an incoherent apology, canceling out what she had already done, Honey concentrated even harder. This time she was pleasantly surprised when it all came out right and she didn't make a mistake. "Oh, it's wonderful!" she breathed out as she tore off the receipt and handed it over to Mart, along with the correct amount of coins. "Trixie is right. It's not that hard, not really."

He opened his water and took a healthy sip of it. "Good for you, Honey. You're going to do great here."

"I have it on good authority that the only people who stop by the store live on Glen Road, anyway. If I do make a mistake, I'm certain that they will forgive me. I can't imagine Regan or your mother getting mad at me because I didn't give them the right change or I charged them more than necessary." Her laugh was soft, delighted and much more relaxed. Having taken care of her first customer without too much of a problem made her feel more confident and less anxious about the whole experience.

Thankful her friend wasn't as nervous as she had once been, Trixie presented her papers to Honey with a flourish and a small bow. "I think I covered everything you could possibly need, Honey," she announced gleefully. "And, as per your request, I also wrote neatly. It hurt my wrist but you won't have any trouble reading it." She shook the slight cramp out of her right hand.

Mart leaned over the counter and peered at the writing, his eyes widening at the orderliness of it. "That has to be the neatest you've ever written, Trixie. There's got to be at least one, two or potentially ten teachers in your past who would love to get a look at this. I can't believe you can print that well."

Trixie flashed a grin back at him, unrepentant and refusing to offer an excuse for her normal handwriting. "It was never a question of if I could do it. It was more a matter of did I want to do it?" She laughed deeply. "The answer was no. I would much rather have hurried through my schoolwork than anything else. It gave me more time to do other things."

"Like solve baffling mysteries that no one else even thought were there," Mart added smartly. "Somehow I think our parents would have been much happier if you had taken more time with your schoolwork and spent less time chasing after hardened criminals."

Honey glanced up from her perusal of her cheat sheets, interrupting Trixie's response, and threw her arms around her friend. "These are perfect, Trix! Just what I needed. They'll come in very handy today. Thank you so much. I don't feel that uneasy anymore. I'll be able to make it through the day with flying colors. I just know it!"

"I'd make sure to tear apart that last sheet," Mart advised knowingly after getting a good look at it. "You wouldn't want that information to fall into the wrong hands, would you?"

Trixie didn't call him on it, actually surprised him by agreeing with him. "As much as I hate to admit it, Honey, Mart's right. I seriously doubt if Mr. Lytell would let me work here anymore if he found a piece of paper lying about detailing how to run the security system in his store in my own handwriting. He'd fire me on the spot and probably have me arrested for attempting to rob his store."

Honey placed the papers on the shelf that ran under the counter, being careful to keep the information on the security system hidden underneath the other sheets, and released a deep sigh. "Will do!" she exclaimed. "I'll tear it up right after I use it."

Mart turned to Trixie and gallantly offered, "If everything is settled between Honey and you, I'll be glad to offer you a ride home."

Blue eyes widened with surprise when Mart didn't make a smart-alecky remark to her. Wondering if the heat was starting to get to him, she accepted his offer slowly. "Thanks, Mart. That's, well, it's surprisingly very nice of you. I'll be glad to take you up on it. I'll leave my bike here in case Honey wants to use it to get home."

"I'll use it as a last resort," Honey admitted, glancing at the outside thermometer and then down at her cotton dress. "No offense, Trix, but I don't really want to ride your bike in this heat or in this dress."

"None taken, Honey." Trixie waved to her friend and walked with Mart to the screen door where a small, almost listless breeze lightly blew in. On the entrance to the store, she sent back one last, long look, feelings of gratitude and concern warring within her. She almost asked the question again but remembered that Honey had ordered her not to bring it up. She ended up settling instead for, "Call me if you need anything, Honey. I'll have my cell with me."

Honey had absolutely no intentions of calling her friend and waved off the offer with a quick flick of her hand. She figured as long as the store didn't burn down or wasn't robbed during her shift, she would be fine. "Only if there is an emergency. Otherwise, in the words from that famous holiday song, I'll muddle through somehow. Don't worry about me. Have a good time tonight, Trix." Thinking about the surprise that awaited Trixie in a few short hours, a beautiful smile worked its way across her face. She couldn't wait to hear about it. "You'll have to call me when you get home. I don't care how late it is, Trixie. I want to hear from you, all right? It's the only thing I'll ask of you," she added.

"It's the least I can do. I'll be glad to call you. 'Bye, Honey!" The door closed behind her with sound of the jingling bell that Trixie could almost hear in her sleep. As she stood on the small porch, she threw a glance over her shoulder. All she could see was Honey's bent head while she sat behind the counter, reading the newspaper.

Arms resting on the top of his car, Mart stared at her over the rim of his tinted sunglasses and called out impatiently from the small parking lot, "Are you coming, Trixie? It's too hot out here to wait any longer. If you want a ride, get a move on. Otherwise, you're going to have to ride your bike home."

Trixie came slowly down the two wooden steps, ignoring the sultry warmth of the summer day, telling herself that Honey was extremely competent and could handle anything that came her way, no matter how big or how small. Resolutely pushing aside the odd and unwelcome feeling, she climbed into the passenger seat of his Chevy Cobalt. It finally came to her; the reason why she was beginning to feel worried and concerned. It was guilt. Guilt was one of the emotions she couldn't stand experiencing. She felt guilty for pawning her job off on her friend, even though Honey was more than willing to take over for her. Knowing she would have to get it over it, and soon, Trixie settled back against the plush seat and felt the cool air from the air conditioning flow over her. Satisfied, and more than confident in Honey's ability to work at the store, she let it go. She had more pleasant things to think about, such as the handsome man who would be picking her up in a few short hours, and the wonderful evening that spread out before them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Eight

Humming lightly, wishing that Mr. Lytell had provided a radio to help keep his employees entertained during the long day, Honey left her post by the counter and began to wander through the few aisles in the store, searching out the different contents and familiarizing herself with their placements, should any potential customers need help in locating the various items. Biting back a sigh, she looked at her watch and saw that she had been in charge of the store for one hour already. Time was definitely dragging, as Trixie had warned her about. No one had stopped in yet. Not a single person. She almost wondered how her best friend was able to stand the quietness of the job. Trixie much preferred action and adventure over tediousness and boredom. While Honey wouldn't say that she always agreed with Trixie, she found herself in complete agreement with her today.

After completing her rounds through the store, doing her best to remember where everything was located, Honey stopped in front of the screen door, almost willing someone to come through it. Astonished, she jumped when her wish was immediately granted. The sound of tires on the gravel outside was a welcome sound. It meant a customer. It meant business. Most importantly, it meant company from the boredom was threatening to suffocate her. She practically skipped her way towards the counter and stood behind it, pinning a welcoming smile on her lips, and waited for the first customers of her day to walk through into the store.

"Mommy, mommy," a tired, young, and shrill voice complained seconds before the door opened. "I really, really need to use the potty. I can't wait any longer. Now, Mommy, now!"

The harassed young mother wore an expression that another parent could recognize anywhere. Sighing, she pushed open the door, grabbed her daughter's hand and marched up to the counter, smiling ruefully at Honey. "Hi, Miss," she began immediately. "I'm very sorry to have to ask you this but my daughter here really needs to use the restroom. Molly has to go now. Is there any way that we could borrow yours for a minute?"

Honey nodded sympathetically, smiling down into the dark brown eyes of the little girl who was alternating between crossing and uncrossing her legs and bouncing up and down. While she seriously doubted if Mr. Lytell let the general public use his restroom, she didn't see the harm in it. "Come with me," she invited the two immediately, skirting her way around the counter and leading them towards the backroom. The restroom was right next to it. Flinching inwardly when she read the sign that clearly stated that it was not a public restroom, Honey mumbled under breath, "Ignore the sign. You can go right on in." She opened the door and ushered the small family in.

A few minutes later, the young mother came back out from the bathroom, looking relaxed and relieved, and smiled gratefully at Honey. Tugging on her daughter's hand, taking her away from the tempting freezer displaying various types of ice cream and other assorted frozen treats, she began, "Thank you, Miss, for letting us use your restroom. I can't begin to tell you how much I appreciate it. Molly would never have been able to make it any farther on our trip. I don't know what else we would have done."

"Don't mention it. It was my pleasure." Honey meant it. She couldn't have refused the mother's request, even though it was clearly what the cantankerous store owner would have wanted her to do. She sent a quick glance around the store, wondering if Mr. Lytell had installed security cameras. If he had, they were quite well-hidden. Shrugging a shoulder, she came to the conclusion that he couldn't exactly fire her when she was only a substitute.

The woman took her daughter over to the snack section and allowed her to pick out a small container of cookies, earning a delighted giggle from the now smiling and much happier Molly. "We'll take these," she said, placing the cookies on the shelf. "We are nearly at the tail end of our trip."

"Where are you going?" Honey asked politely, pleased that she was able to uphold her end of the conversation and ring up the customer at the same time. It really was easy, just as Trixie had told her it would be. Feeling more confident, she accepted the payment and handed over the correct change as if she had been manning the store for years instead of minutes.

"White Plains. We've been traveling for the past three hours. There's nothing quite like a long car trip with a little one," the mother answered laughingly after handing the package of cookies over to her three-year old. She ran a hand over her daughter's short dark brown hair and murmured lowly, for Honey's ears only, "We're on our way to visit the in-laws." Her low, depressed sigh said it all.

Honey giggled in response and settled back on the stool. "I wish you a happy trip and an even happier visit. Thanks for stopping in!"

When the girl turned to follow her mother down the aisle, her foot accidentally caught on the edge of the metal display rack. It didn't stand a chance. The medium-sized rack came crashing to the floor with a series of loud thumps, luckily not on her, as the metal met the worn wooden floorboards and the magazines went flying about everywhere. Standing in the middle of the room, a pile of disorganized magazines at her feet, while her brown eyes went wide and her cheeks flushed a deep, vibrant red, the girl sucked in a deep breath before letting out a horrible wail that could probably be heard by Hoppy down at the Town Hall. "Mommy!"

Honey and the mother stared at the scene in shocked surprise and shared horror. Having instincts of steel, the mother reacted first. She sprinted back to her daughter and scooped her up, giving one painful glance at the multitude of magazines spread out on the floor and felt her own cheeks tint with the same color of her daughter's. "Molly! No, no, that's enough. Don't cry. It's okay. I'll take care of it. Oh, I'm so sorry about the mess," she apologized over her sobbing daughter's head.

Honey cringed as the wails became louder, more insistent, and seemed to bounce off the four walls of the store. She wouldn't be complaining about the quiet store anymore, she thought to herself, or wishing for customers. It would be fine with her if no one else came through the door until she was able to close the store at nine o'clock that evening. "Don't worry," she hastened to assure them, coming around the counter and surveying the mess. Smoothing away a grimace, she began by replacing the wire stand to its usual spot, a little surprised that it weighed more than she had expected it to. Frowning down, she hoped she had it put back to where it should be, remembering Trixie's warning on how Mr. Lytell didn't like having anything moved in the store. "Don't worry about it. It's not a big deal. I'll take care of the magazines. Take care of your daughter." She swallowed back the please and waved the small family off. Doing her best to ignore the continuing cries that were starting to decrease in volume, she sat down on the floor and started rearranging the display that the little girl had accidentally knocked over.

The mother carried her weeping daughter down the aisle, speaking soothing words to her to help calm her down while Honey stared hard at the magazines that were fanned out in front of her. Knowing she didn't have another choice, she quickly started to sort them out. The mother gave a pained smile to the next customer coming through the door, thanking him quietly while he held the door open for her. Then she gratefully left the store, happy to be leaving the scene of her daughter's unintentional destruction.

Honey heard the bell as the door closed but didn't look up, too intent on picking up the mess. Oblivious to the new customer in the store, unable to see him from her new vantage point, she grumbled grimly to herself, "Let's get to it." She started matching up the magazines.

He stood in the doorway for a long moment. After sending a cool and calculating look around the store, his cold, dark eyes hiding behind a pair of dark sunglasses, he came to the conclusion that no one else was present in the store, just as he had predicted it to be. It was just him and the clerk, wherever she may be. He couldn't see her but she was here. There wasn't a doubt in his mind. Her bike was still outside. An unnatural smirk twisted its way across his surprisingly handsome face as he shut the screen door, carefully and precisely, making as little noise as possible. Then he went one step further. With quiet competence, his hand found the brass handle of the wooden front door. Eyes wary, ready to react should anyone come out of the woodwork to object to his next course of actions, and as unobtrusively as possible, he closed that door, too. When no one responded to the small click of the front door, he flicked the lock and attached the chain lock. Last, almost as an afterthought, he reached behind and turned the small, faded, rectangular sign that joyfully declared the store was open to closed. He didn't want anyone else to enter the store, not for what he had in mind.

Satisfied with his work but still unable to locate the girl, he started towards one of the refrigerated cases and pulled out an orange sports drink, all part of his plan intended to help keep his prey as unsuspecting as possible. He wouldn't have a second chance to surprise her and he needed to catch her off-guard and alone. Very alone. The store seemed to be a breeding place for solitude. He had watched her earlier during one of his many travels down the quiet country road, had seen her out on the porch with the broom in her hand and had passed the bike he knew to be hers on his walk up to the store. It shouldn't take long, not for what he intended to do. He patted his weapon of choice in his pocket, almost feeling a sense of cathartic release at its presence. A score certainly needed to be settled and he figured it was a stroke of blind luck that he had discovered that she worked her.

A slight swagger to his walk, he rounded the aisle, barely resisting the urge to whistle. What he saw brought him to a complete standstill and made anger start to simmer viciously inside him while ugly curse words exploded in his mind. It wasn't _her_. It wasn't the one he wanted. Dark eyebrows snapped together, a portrait of pure anger and frustration on his face. He wondered how the blonde had slipped past him, damned the small window of opportunity he had unfortunately given her. He stared down at the other girl hard at work stacking spilled magazines, only ten steps away from him. How could she have gotten away? He couldn't answer it with any certainty. It would have had to have been sometime during the past two hours when he had driven past the place to make certain she was working. He had gone back to his ratty apartment, grabbed a quick and extremely un-nutritious bite to eat, as well as one piece of equipment that he needed to fulfill the malicious need for revenge, and then had driven back to park his car in a field about a quarter of a mile away and hidden from the road. No, it wasn't Belden, he admitted with his lips curling down in disgust. It was the other one. The pretty, brown-haired girl with the big eyes and the sweet, heart-shaped face. He worked hard, trying to pull out the name from his memory, and eventually succeeded. Wheeler. The daughter of the millionaire. It was Honey Wheeler. Grinning to himself, deciding that since he had already started down his chosen path and that he only had one shot at revenge, he strode toward the counter with deliberately loud steps and dropped the bottle on top of it. A sidekick was nearly as good as his main aim, anyway. The blonde girl may not feel the physical pain he had dreamed of giving her but she would feel pain nonetheless.

Honey's head shot up at once. She hadn't heard him come in; hadn't even realized there was another person in the store, and felt her heart skip a nervous and painful beat. Leaving the magazines on the floor, she slowly stood up and smiled politely at the man in front of her, the same way she would have greeted any other customer in the store. Other than the fact that she didn't know who he was, she couldn't tell much about him. His baseball cap was old and worn, proclaiming him a fan of the New York Mets. His eyes and the upper part of his face were hidden behind a pair of extremely dark sunglasses. All she could see was her reflection in the twin shades, staring back at her. "Hello. Welcome to our store," she greeted him and gestured towards the mess on the floor, taken aback that there was yet another stranger to the area in the store. Trixie was wrong, she laughed to herself. There were other customers besides residents of Glen Road. "I have to apologize about the state of the store. It doesn't usually look like this. There was a slight accident before you came in."

There would be another one before he left but he didn't speak the sinister thought. An almost deliriously delighted spark entered his eyes that would have set Honey's senses on overload and sent her running in the opposite direction had she been able to see it. "I caught the tail end of it," he answered with what he hoped was the proper amount of sympathy and leaned against the side of the counter. Crossing his ankles in a deceptively negligent pose, he nodded down at the floor. "The little kid, right? She must have knocked the rack over."

Honey nodded and smoothed a hand over her hair. She didn't know that his eyes followed the motion with calculated interest. "Yes. She tripped over it. The rack and the magazines may never be the same again. Her mother offered to help but I told her it was okay. It won't take me too long to get everything back the way it's supposed to be. I'm already halfway there."

In a display of helpfulness that he knew was completely feigned but which he hoped would keep her at ease, he bent down and picked up a stack of _Better Homes and Gardens_. "I'll be glad to help you put them back on the stand. Is there any particular order that you want them in?" His anticipation grew when she smiled warmly up at him. Stupid, naïve, trusting, he thought of the girl in front of him. Somehow he knew that he wouldn't have been able to fool Belden. She would have seen through his good Samaritan act in less than a heartbeat. His disappointment dissipated while his anticipation grew.

Honey accepted the kind help and reached for a stack herself. "That's very nice of you. While I'm certain that Mr. Lytell, the owner of this store, has a definite order to the magazine rack, I don't know what it is. I don't work here that much. In fact, this is my first time in here. I'm only covering for a friend." She gave a helpless laugh and fluttered her hands. "So we'll have to make it up as we go. I'm sure we will put the magazines in the wrong places but someone will fix them tomorrow, hopefully before Mr. Lytell comes in to the store."

Working quickly and quietly, the magazines filled up the rack once again. He absorbed what she had said, realized that the girl was covering for his first choice, and came to the conclusion that she was much too open and free with her information. It was almost too easy for him. The sound of a car traveling down the road floated through the window. Realizing that time was his only enemy, he glared sharply towards the window, holding his breath the entire time and not hearing another set of grateful thank-yous from the girl only an arms-length away. Luckily for him, not so luckily for her, the car continued on and didn't pull into the store's parking lot. It reminded him that he didn't have much time. If he wanted revenge, he would need to see to it now.

"Thank you very much for your help," Honey repeated for the second time after he didn't give her a response to her first set. After he gave her a small smile, she contemplated the stand with her hands on her hips and decided with a small sigh that it looked as good as it was going to. Really, did it matter if _Sports Illustrated _was next to _Entertainment Weekly_? She didn't see anything wrong with it. Turning to the young man who had helpfully assisted her, she mentioned conversationally, "I don't seem to know you. Do you live around here?"

Feeling the crunch of time, knowing that while the store could not ever be described as busy, it still had the potential for customers at any given moment, he let his fake façade of friendliness start to slip. "Close by," he answered shortly but didn't offer that his one-room apartment was in a seedy, rundown old building in the charming section of Sleepyside known as Hawthorne Street. He had taken up residence in it two weeks ago, right after being granted parole for a string of extremely good behavior in the state prison, and had been fairly certain that he could keep his nose to the straight and narrow this time around. That was, until he had caught sight of the schoolgirl detective riding her bike along Glen Road, four days earlier. Unable to resist the urge, he had followed her and had watched her enter the country store. It hadn't been hard to figure out that she was an employee here. After watching the store for a few days, he had quickly learned that it wasn't a popular store and would serve as the perfect place for a little retribution.

"Well, it's unusual to have someone who doesn't live on Glen Road stop in at our little store. I'm grateful to you for your help, though," Honey continued, blissfully unaware of the plans swirling around in her customer's mind or of his true intentions. When he didn't answer, only stared somewhere off to the side of her with an indecipherable expression on his face, she wiped her hands on her knees and started towards the counter. "I'll be glad to ring up your drink for you. It is definitely hot today. Hopefully the forecast is right and this heat wave will start to break tomorrow."

He didn't move out of the way when she tried to move around him to go behind the counter. In fact, he only seemed to make his body bigger, as if he was taking up even more room. She couldn't possibly walk past him, not without touching him or the brushing up against a wooden shelf stuffed with loaves of bread. "Excuse me," Honey muttered tentatively, coming to a stop and giving him a reproachful stare.

"Sorry," he replied curtly, not repentant in the least, and bent down to retrieve a magazine that had fallen under the counter as a ruse for his true motivation. "We missed one," he announced and handed it to her.

An uncertain feeling crept up her back. Wishing that Mr. Lytell had believed in the need to employ two people for the same shift, she cautiously accepted the magazine and turned to put it back on the rack, suddenly not feeling that warm or grateful to the man in front of her.

"It's funny you should ask me about living around here. I've only recently moved into town," the man noted with an odd tone to his voice that had the fine hairs on the back of Honey's neck standing up. "I haven't been living here long but I do seem to remember hearing about a local celebrity in the area. I think she may live out here, on Glen Road. She's probably one of your neighbors. I'll even bet that you even know her."

She slanted him a curious look after straightening up and took a wide step away from him. For some unknown reason, he didn't seem to be as friendly as he had been before. There was a harsh tone to his voice that made her more than wary, more than cautious. It was beginning to make her scared. "Celebrities?" Her laugh was full of unease and distrust. Honey shook her head and thought about the cell phone that was sitting on the shelf under the counter, well out of her reach, and blew out a frustrated breath. It was useless to her. She would have to get around him to get to it. "I've lived here for a while. I've never run across any celebrities in our neck of the woods."

He smiled serenely down at her, unaware that her radar was starting to flash on red-alert, and that he had allowed his true colors to start seeping through. "Come on, you've got to know who I'm talking about. Isn't there a rather well-known detective in these parts? A girl, from what I understand. Not only is she a girl but she's also someone who can reportedly solve crimes before the police can. You have to know her. That is, if she really exists," he added in a nonchalant aside.

Honey felt her stomach slowly begin to plummet while she straightened herself to her full height and studied the area around her. She didn't seem to have many options available to her. Her cell phone and the help button were behind him, as was the back room. The only possible avenue for her was the front door. "I don't know," she answered carefully, her body poised to do…something. She wasn't sure what she needed to do. She was absolutely, positively not going to talk to him about Trixie. There was no way in hell that she would sell her friend out. Her loyalties ran too deep. Taking a deep breath, she added forcefully, "I have never heard of anyone who would fit that description."

His voice was low, accusing, malicious, and confirmed her feelings. "You're a liar." He reached out and touched her cheek, grinning to himself when he saw the way she flinched her head back from his touch. "But I'm okay with that. I already know the girl. Trixie Belden. I was planning on running into her in the store today, seeing as how she was so kind and helpful to me in the past," he explained sarcastically, noticing that Honey was now breathing shallow and in rapid succession. Her fear was nearly tangible, feed his hunger better than anything possibly could have. "Somehow, she slipped out of this awful little store when I was away and you've taken her place. At first I was a little angry and a lot frustrated with the unexpected switch but it's not such a bad deal, not at all." From behind his sunglasses his eyes began coldly raking her from top to bottom. "You may not be the one who I consider completely responsible for spoiling my plans but you're a hell of a lot easier on the eyes than that little blonde chick."

Oh, the suspicions had magnified and exploded, had turned into a full-blown panic while her heart began to race in such a way that had to be detrimental to her health. "I…I really think you need to leave," Honey stammered out, wishing that her voice had stayed strong and had not ended up coming out in a high-pitched squeak.

His answering laugh nearly brought her to her knees; it was dark, evil and sent tiny little shivers coursing up and down her spine. Looking at her with cool, calm detachment, he questioned, "Now, really, why would I want to do that, Miss Wheeler? Things are finally starting to get interesting in this godforsaken little store."

Visibly shaking, Honey swiveled her head around wildly, for the first time noticing the closed and locked front door. Another avenue of escape was blocked off from her. The panic threatened to smother her. Wondering what she should do now, she decided she would only have one chance. One chance to try to catch him off guard. Attempting to reign in her fear, trying to think like Trixie and imagine what her friend would do in the same situation, she stood the way a deer did when one was caught in the harsh beams of the headlights of an approaching car, alert yet wary, and slowly brought her hand to rest on the top of the wire magazine stand. "Who…who are you?" she got out past the large lump of fright lodged in her throat. "How do you know Trixie?"

Tsking, he wagged a finger at her and thumbed a hand over his heart. "Now I am even more disappointed, maybe even heartbroken. How could you not remember me? It was a hot summer day, just like today, when we first met." Uneven white teeth flashing behind a jagged grin, he reached up to remove his baseball cap. Dark hair cropped exceedingly short shown forth from underneath. "I'm severely upset and hurt. How could you not remember me, Honey Wheeler? I certainly remember you, that damn club of yours, and especially your curly-haired friend. My memories may not be fond ones but they are most certainly there."

"It's just a little oversight," Honey explained, frantically searching for another clue to his identity but she came up with nothing. Biting her lip, she put together what she knew about him. He was on the small side. His voice sounded vaguely familiar. They met him during the summer. Obviously Trixie and the rest of the Bob-Whites had helped to put him in prison during one of their many adventures. But she couldn't piece it together. Trying to keep herself calm, she focused on the one thing she needed to do. She couldn't anger him. She had to keep him pacified. "I'm sorry. You're going to have to forgive me. I…I can't seem to place you."

"I see that. I guess I can forgive you since you asked so politely," he decided generously. "Because of your nice manners, I'll even go one better and help you out." Slowly, leisurely, methodically, he took off his sunglasses and stared at her out of eyes that were dark, menacing and extremely cold.

She remembered him. Did she ever remember him, as well as the gun that he had leveled on a car full of her nearest and dearest friends. "Sax Jenner!" she got out, more poised now for flight than she had been before, while the panic morphed into terror.

He caught the way she looked from him to the door and back again. Smirking, he dispassionately pulled out his gun from the pocket of his shorts. "This is my trusty sidekick," he announced gleefully, holding it up. "Somehow it seems fitting that my sidekick is going to meet Belden's sidekick. I'm actually becoming more and more in favor of how the afternoon is turning out. It's starting to seem like it was destined to be you and me, Miss Wheeler. "

She didn't have another choice. Pacifying him was out. It wouldn't get her anywhere. While angering him wasn't the smartest way to go, she couldn't stand by and not defend herself. Gripping the edge of the wire rack, hoping against hope that she would be able to create a strong enough diversion to allow her a few precious seconds of flight past him, she resolutely cleared her throat and hoped that the panic wasn't revealed on her pale face. "I…no, this is not my destiny," she mumbled out past white lips, almost hypnotized by the presence of his gun. When his thin lips pulled back into a feral grin, she reached forward and pulled the rack down as hard as she could. It collided painfully with his thigh, eliciting a sharp cry of pain. Once again, the magazines were spilled the magazines on the floor.

Moving with a grace that was brought on by fear and heightened by a healthy wish for self-preservation, Honey flew past him and sprinted towards the back room, praying that she could make it there before he had recovered. The sharp tug on her pony tail made her scream and brought her crashing to the floor, proving to her how meaningless of an escape attempt she had made. She rubbed the side of her hip, already starting to feel the bruise that was forming there from his rough treatment of her, and stared up at him through hate-filled eyes.

"Nice try," he said from above, his feet planted on either side of her and the gun in his hands, and met her angry glare, stunned that she had more guts than he had given her credit for. He hadn't anticipated a fight with this girl. Adrenaline began to pump t through his veins. He loved a good fight. "You have more spunk than I ever gave you credit for."

A gleam of sunlight, cheerful, bright and vibrant, in direct contrast to the grim situation playing out in the store, came through the open window, and landed on the black barrel of the deadly handgun. Honey couldn't tear her eyes away from the weapon. Scrambling to her knees, trying to keep her wits about her, she swallowed back the hysteria that threatened to smother her and noticed that she was close to the counter. So close. There was only a few feet of air that stood between her and the help button. If only she could get to it…

He saw the shaking hand that reached out to the counter. Thinking she was trying for her pink cell phone, he picked it up and pretended to study it. "Nice phone. Expensive, not that I expected anything less, and of the highest quality." Meeting her frightened gaze, he turned and hummed it against the far wall. He hadn't been a pitcher on his high school team for nothing. The phone shattered; its pieces falling to the floor. "Not much use to you anymore, is it?"

Ever so slowly, she shook her head. Wondering if he would let her stand up, she put her hand on the counter and deliberately pulled herself to her feet. Keep him busy, keep him busy, she thought to herself. "We…we didn't know that you were out of prison," Honey mumbled aloud, watching him while her hand slid under the counter and towards the button.

"I'm so sorry. I can't believe that you weren't informed. I should have sent a card letting you and your friends know," he replied mockingly, believing that he had the upper hand and that she was completely at his mercy. "I'm sure there is some way I could make it up to you."

She made contact. Glorious, wonderful contact. Her body nearly deflated with relief when she pushed the button. Once, twice, three times. She pushed it repeatedly to hopefully show the police station that she was in dire need of assistance. Help would come; help would be on its way. Soon. It would be here in a matter of minutes. She kept the relief from showing on her face. Anything could happen in the few minutes before the police came to investigate the call for help. Once again looking at the gun that he had casually resting against his thigh, she realized that anything could be quite painful, maybe even deadly.


	10. Chapter 10

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Nine

Tapping his fingers to the beat of the classic rock song blaring out from the radio, while warm air blew in through the open windows to counteract the overwhelming humidity, Jim made the turn onto Glen Road to start the last leg on his way back home from Sleepyside. With the promise of the evening looming ahead, he was doing everything possible to help time move faster than it was going. When his mother had mentioned after lunch that she had forgotten to mail a letter to an acquaintance, he had jumped at the chance to drive into town and complete the small task for her. He had welcomed the task since he had run out of other ways to keep himself busy. So far during the day, he had already exercised Jupiter, checked and responded to all of his emails, had eaten a long lunch with his parents and had surfed the internet for awhile. No matter what he did, time still dragged by on very slow and almost unmoving feet. The drive into town had served as a wonderful distraction for him and had killed a good thirty minutes. Maybe more, he noted after studying the digital numbers on his clock.

Only half-paying attention to the scenery that rolled past him, completely ignorant of the bright green leaves of the trees or the vivid sunlight filtering through the branches that left long, extended shadows across the road, Jim envisioned the evening before him, planning out what he wanted to say to Trixie. Lost in thought, the appearance of the sleepy little country store on the side of the road almost didn't register. When it did, he smiled in anticipation. Visiting the store seemed like a good way to spend a few more minutes. Even though he knew that Trixie would have left the store by now and that his sister would have taken her place at the counter, he competently pulled into the small parking lot. The fact that it was empty didn't come as a shock. It usually was. Mr. Lytell never had a steady stream of customers going through his doors. Seconds later, he was out of his Jeep and strolling towards the small front porch, eager to talk to his sister. Honey would help keep his nerves at bay. She would give him the pep-talk that he needed.

Whistling the tune to the last song he had heard under his breath, he made it to the porch and automatically pulled open the screen door and then came to a complete halt, puzzled. Staring at the closed front door, Jim felt a frown work its way across his face. Why on earth would Honey close the door? he wondered to himself, unable to come up with any plausible reason. It was too hot outside not to have the door open. Trixie complained enough about the heat for him to know that the store didn't have air conditioning. It didn't make any sense, unless she had to leave for some reason. When he saw that the windows were still open, he realized that couldn't be the reason. Honey was trustworthy, almost to a fault. She wouldn't have left the premises without closing up the building. Slowly it began to dawn on him that something wasn't quite right. Something was off. When he tried to open the door, he was stunned further to find out that it was locked. Through narrowed eyes, he scanned the doorway but couldn't see anything past the thin Venetian blinds obscuring his view. He couldn't help but notice the sign in the window. Closed, it read. _Closed_? His mind screamed. _Why the hell was the store closed_? No answers were forthcoming. At least, none that were good. Rooted to the spot, he didn't know what his next move should be.

When a small, aborted cry of pain came from inside the store, his lagging senses propelled him into immediate action and proved to him that his suspicions were regrettably correct. Moving stealthily off the porch, keeping his steps as light and as sure as he could and moving soundlessly, Jim found his way to the back of the building, doing his best not to think or imagine what could be happening inside. The sight of the bike leaning up against the building made his fear triple and forced himself to take a deep, jagged breath. It belonged to his girlfriend. She could be involved, too. Its presence meant that either Trixie, Honey or both could be inside. He didn't know who, he didn't know what, and he didn't know why. Basically, he didn't know a blessed thing other than the fact that his heart was practically pounding out of his chest and that he was afraid, more so than he had ever been before.

Reaching the large amount of shade cast by the building, he pulled out his cell phone and wasted no time in dialing an extremely helpful number. When the dispatcher answered dispassionately, he barked lowly into the phone, forgetting to give his name, "Mr. Lytell's store on Glen Road. Now!" Before the dispatcher could ask him a million relevant questions, most of which he wouldn't be able to answer, he disconnected the call and turned off his cell phone, unwilling to have his phone ring and alert whoever was inside that he was there to help. He couldn't give away his presence. The only weapon he carried was surprise.

Trying not to count down the rapidly dissolving seconds since he had heard the scream and came to the back of the building, he tried the back door. Locked, of course, not that he had expected anything different. Short of breaking it down, which would tell the people inside that he was there, he scooted away and zeroed in on the open window. Lips pulled down at the corner, he nodded his head, decision made. It was the only way inside. Grabbing a forgotten crate stacked up neatly against the building, Jim moved it to the window and climbed on top of it. The screen carried a bit of dust and grime on it. It was old and rickety looking. It moved easily when he gave a good hard push. The screen fell inside and clattered, landing on something within the store. He held his breath and hoped that the slight sound it made hadn't warned anyone inside. Knowing he didn't have a choice, that it didn't matter if the noise had brought the perpetrators running into the back room, he wiggled himself through the window with a speed and dexterity that would have impressed Trixie and landed squarely on Mr. Lytell's desk. Papers scattered in all directions but he was able to prevent the mug of pens and pencils from spilling over. Crouching on top of the desk, he cocked an ear to the side, listening to the sound of the muted voices coming from the front of the store and decided that no one had heard him break into the store. Not knowing what he would find, he cautiously made his way towards the doorway that separated the two rooms, his footsteps light and sure in direct contrast to the rapid beating of his heart. He had already recognized one of the voices. Honey was inside. He couldn't tell if Trixie was here or not. Slowly, hoping not to give away his position, he pressed his body up against the wall and risked a quick glance into the other room. He saw her immediately. He found Honey, who stood at the counter with a terrified expression on her face, as well as the back of the man threatening her. Everything froze within him when he saw the gun.

Unaware that help was near, Honey gripped the edge of the counter, straining to hear the sound of a siren coming their way, even though she knew it was a stupid thing to do. She had only just pressed the help button a few seconds ago. There was simply no way anyone would be able to get there to help her that quickly. No way at all. She was on her own. "Why are you doing this?" she asked aloud, scrambling to try and keep him occupied while giving the police the time they needed to arrive.

He flashed his gun in the air and arched an eyebrow. A hint of excitement flashed briefly in his dark eyes, turning him into something that looked less than human. "I've already told you. I want revenge, pure and simple. After the way you and your friends sent me back to prison, I deserve it. Don't delude yourself, sweetheart. There is no other motivation."

The term of endearment made cold sweat pop out all over her. She hated it. "What are you planning on doing with that gun?" She wet her lips, doing her best to think of any questions to prolong whatever he had in store for her, even if they were brainless and obtuse. She had to give the police a chance to get to the store.

"Are you really that dense, my dear, or are you simply foolish? Haven't you figured it out yet?" He studied her closely, the way a scientist would study a smear under a microscope, and shrugged at what he considered her blatant stupidity. "I bet this is why you own the position of sidekick and are not the one in charge. You are not the brains the operation, are you?"

Honey ignored the sarcastic question. "I…I want to hear you say it." She didn't. She most certainly did not want to hear anything that he had to say, anything at all. She would rather not know what he intended to do but her brain was starting to shut down. She couldn't think of anything else relevant to ask him. Not a damn thing. Panic was starting to fray the edges of her mind, to turn her brain into mush and disable her ability to think. Breathing harshly, she forced herself to look at anything but the menacing gun he held much too competently in his hand.

"If you insist. Far be it for me to ignore a request from you." He didn't see the harm in humoring her, especially if there was the potential for him to brag about his plan. Her nearly palatable fear was stroking his ego, making him feel strong and powerful, and building him up until he truly believed nothing and no one could bring him down. "But you already know who my intended target was. What else is there to know? I appear to be stuck with you, even though I didn't want you. I wanted Belden."

"Yes. Right. You did tell me that." Honey nodded dumbly. "Tr…Trixie left earlier," she shared, feeling as though she was betraying her friend by simply stating her name. "I'm covering her shift today."

"Your bad luck." He hung his head in mock sympathy and sighed for good measure. "It is a shame, though. I would have loved to have seen the look on her face when my well-placed bullets slammed into her. I planned on emptying every last one into some part of her body, you know," he shared easily, as if he was conversing with someone about the heat wave or the potential winner of the upcoming New York Yankees/Boston Red Sox baseball game. He didn't sound like he was discussing cold-blooded murder, which only made him seem even more diabolical, frightening and less like an actual living, breathing person.

"I'm glad she's not here," Honey rasped out. She meant it. At least Trixie was home, safe and sound, and away from the terror that he was easily creating. She wouldn't have wanted her friend to experience the hell at his hands.

"You interrupted," he chastised her. "Don't do that again. I don't like it." Reaching out, he smoothed a hand over her head, reveling in the sleekness of her hair. "Here I thought you wanted to hear my entire plan. You're going to need to be a better audience." His hand trailed down to her shoulder.

It took every ounce of will not to shake away his touch. Keeping perfectly still, she answered unsteadily, "Of course." Her voice trembled. Her knees knocked together. She found it hard to believe that he was touching her and hoped that if she didn't respond, he would stop. "I won't interrupt you anymore. Please. Continue."

The 'please' appeased him. He dropped his hand and stared off into the distance, almost as if he was visualizing what he had expected to happen that day in the store instead of what had actually occurred. "I would have started off easy, of course. I wouldn't have wanted to kill that Belden girl right off, as I'm sure you can understand."

Honey bit back an angry retort, remembering her promise not to interrupt again in the nick of time. She hated standing by, almost as if she was urging him to continue, but she did it because there wasn't any other option available to her.

He missed the look of anger that crossed over her face. Voicing his fantasy, he continued, "First, I would have given her one bullet of pain, maybe to a knee or an elbow, you know, somewhere where the pain would have been debilitating but not deadly. We would have conversed a little, kind of like you and I are doing right now. Maybe I would have let her beg for mercy. You know her well. Would she have pleaded for her life?"

"No, never. She wouldn't have begged," Honey inserted, shivering with disgust at the portrait he was painting with his mean and malevolent words. "Not Trixie. She wouldn't. She would have overlooked the pain and thought of a way to get out of here."

"A person never knows what they would do, should they find themselves in a life or death situation," he snapped back, eyes slitted with annoyance at her interpretation. She would have begged. He would have made certain of it. "Then I would have pumped another one into her. Again, in a not-so-essential spot on her body. It would have been a beautiful sight to see. I would have taken the time to enjoy her pain and would have continued with my course of action until there was only one bullet left. That one would have been saved for right here." He touched his gun to the middle of his forehead. "With such a shot, she would have died on impact."

What little color had been left in her face drained away. He spoke of Trixie's 'death' with such indifference. It made her feel beyond cold. "Oh, good Lord," Honey mumbled out, clutching the counter with two hands now to keep from tumbling into a heap at that hated man's feet.

"It would have been magnificent. A charming scene," he murmured softly, almost reverently. "She would have been lying in a pool of her own blood, painfully taking her last breaths, while I looked on. Beautiful," he repeated his earlier words, sighing for what could have been. A frown settled on his face. He stared at the girl who had unwittingly taken his prey's place. He wasn't quite as satisfied with his new victim, not after remembering his plans. She didn't appear to have the spunk to satisfy his need for domination. The satisfaction wouldn't be the same.

Honey cleared her throat, doubting if she would ever be able to forget the scene he had given her if she managed to get out of the precarious situation she found herself in, and made one last effort to continue the nauseating conversation. "Now? What are your plans now?" She watched him out of fear-filled eyes.

"I don't have the same hatred for you that I have for her," he answered with charming yet disarming ease. A twisted smile crossed his face. It was a dreadful sight. "Don't misunderstand me. It's not to say that I don't hate you, as well as the rest of that group of yours, because I do. I can't stand the lot of you. I simply don't want to make you suffer in the same way as I wanted that other one to. She would have been exquisite in her death. I would have made sure of it."

His words didn't make her feel any better. In fact, they only seemed to terrorize her even further. "All right," Honey muttered harshly, the black pupils almost swallowing the hazel of her eyes. "I understand. There isn't much I can do, is there?" Her short, choppy laugh was edged with hysteria. Caught between him and the counter, she didn't have any place to go. Frantically, she glanced towards the front door but there was no one coming through it to help. She was still on her own.

"You can hand me the money out of the register," he offered helpfully, appreciating the sudden idea. The cash would come in handy, would help him pay his rent and buy a few necessary supplies for the rest of the week. "That way when your body is found, the police will think it was a routine robbery along a quiet country road. They won't know the true motivation behind it. They won't have any other reason to suspect anything else, will they?"

"No," she answered when he appeared to be waiting for her to respond. It sickened her. The police wouldn't see it any other way. "No, they won't."

"The money," he reminded her with a push when she didn't make a move to get it. "I would like it very much."

Almost like a robot, overlooking the prod to the chest he had given her, she turned to the cash register. Nervous, frightened, her fingers were clumsy and she fumbled with the buttons. She forgot how to work the damn thing. When she was finally able to get it open, with his coarse words of discouragement propelling her on and making her more tense than she had been before, she took out the bills and laid them on the counter with hands that shook. "Here's the money," she announced needlessly. "It's not much. We haven't had many customers today."

"It's enough." He swept it up and tucked it into the front pocket of his shorts. Rapping the barrel of his gun against the counter, he remarked in a curious tone of voice, "I seem to remember hearing that old man Lytell kept a safe in the back room. Many of my cronies talked about it a few years back. We were contemplating a run on this place before I was sent back to prison. Supposedly it's stuffed with money, thousands and thousands of dollars worth."

Her throat was dry. The act of taking in air seemed to be nearly impossible. She fleetingly wondered if this is what it felt like to suffocate. "You're wrong," she found the courage to say. "It's not there anymore. He got rid of the safe and put the money into the bank. There were a couple of con artists who tried to get it out of him. They didn't succeed."

"Of course not. I suppose you and your friend caught the would-be thieves," he guessed astutely. Her guilty expression was all the answer he needed while he nodded curtly. "You've already proven yourself to be a liar once today. I won't believe you until I see it for myself. You're going to have to show me that the safe is no longer there." He stepped off to the side and gestured towards her to lead the way into the back room. "You'll notice that I am still a gentleman. Ladies first, my dear."

He wasn't. He wasn't anything close to resembling human. Honey didn't voice her thoughts. She reluctantly obeyed on legs that were threatening to turn into jelly. When she walked past him, his hand snaked out and curled around her waist. She recoiled back from the despised warmth of his hand and felt chills explode throughout her. "Don't touch me," she ordered him with as much force as she could muster.

"You're in no position to give orders," he told her, in case she hadn't been able to figure it out by now. His gun rested against her stomach. "I'm in charge."

She cringed when he pushed the gun up against her ribcage, an effective exclamation point to his statement. "Ri…right," she stuttered out. Where were the police? she wondered frantically. Did they even know about her call for assistance? Would they ever come?

An odd light flickered in his eyes. It grew, scaring her even before he started speaking. "I happen to appreciate pretty things. You, my dear, are a very, very pretty thing, indeed. I find you much more attractive than your good friend. She's not my type." He took a finger and traced the side of her face, chuckling when she flinched away from his touch. Unfortunately for her, she had nowhere to go but to burrow further against his chest. Eyes roving over her face and down her body, he mused softly, considering a move he had never taken into account before, "There might be just enough time for something I hadn't planned on with that other one. There just might be. I have a feeling you're going to be a better stand-in for her than I had anticipated."

Her knees buckled. It was strange that she needed his body to support her from landing in a boneless heap on the floor. What he meant was as clear as the bright light of day and made her more scared than the promise of a speedy, if painful, death. "Oh, no," she denied fiercely, infusing as much strength into her voice as she could. She couldn't seem to say anything but 'no' to him. "No, not that!"

"Oh, yes," he shot back smoothly, the decision made and an ugly excitement coming over his face, distorting it and turning him into a caricature of pure evil. "But I can't afford to stay here much longer. Time, you know. It's working against me. It's too bad we spent too much of it talking out here. It'll have to be quick." When she tried to dig the heels of her sandals into the worn floorboards, he propelled her forward, starting to feel an exhilaration build within him that he hadn't expected or planned on. As he had stated, he liked pretty things. Staring down at her profile, he decided that he more than liked this girl. She was prettier than he had remembered. He would reminisce about her with fond memories.

Green eyes glowing with anticipation and the same intense amount of hatred he could only remembering experiencing for his stepfather, Jim witnessed it all. With hands that were figuratively tied, he waited. They were coming his way. Infuriated by the terrifying and deadly plans the man had made for his Trixie, incensed by his new and ugly intentions towards his sister, Jim stood beside the doorway, keeping his presence unknown. Only one shot was available to him. That man was going down. The fury poured through his veins like molten lava, firing him up and spurring him into action. Stony face wiped clean of all emotion, Jim stood by, ready to spring into action as Honey's last and only hope, and wondered where the hell the police were.


	11. Chapter 11

**Breakaway **

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Ten

After another glance at the wooden clock placed prominently on the mantel told her that not much time had gone past, Trixie flopped down on the overstuffed living room sofa, entering that damned realm where boredom reigned supreme. "Will this afternoon ever end?" she moaned aloud, more than anxious to start preparing for the evening ahead with Jim, and dropped her face in her hands. She waited a minute, one whole minute, before cracking open an eye. Releasing a frustrated groan, she saw that the time hadn't gone any faster. It was ticking by at its annoyingly normal and sedate pace, almost as if it was mocking her with its steadfast tick-tocking, much to her disappointment and chagrin.

Amused by the sight before him, Brian chuckled as he came into the inviting room. He couldn't help thinking that some things would never change. Impatience was an integral part of his sister; had been for as long as he could remember. He supposed it came from having two older brothers she had always done her best to keep up with, starting from the very moment she had learned how to walk. Mart, the helpful brother he had been and still was, had taken more pleasure in pushing her down than in encouraging her to walk. Knowing that Trixie had only been home for a little over an hour, if that, he shook his dark head. She already looked frustrated, bored and irritated. He quickly donned his understanding, big brother suit and gave her a sympathetic smile. "Relax, Trix, and enjoy your time off. You've got two hours to go before Jim gets here, right?" He sat in the recliner, hoping to reassure her with his words. "The time's going to go by fast. You'll see. There's no need to become impatient. Take it easy and enjoy yourself." Aware of the importance of the evening ahead for her although completely ignorant of Jim's intentions, he added with the brotherly helpfulness that was usually reserved for Mart, "You'll be nervous enough when Jim gets here."

"Gee, thanks," she responded sarcastically, arching a single eyebrow in his direction. "I really appreciate it. That's the way to make me feel better."

He laughed again and ruffled her curls. "Don't worry, Trixie. Time is a rather fickle thing. I've learned that enough over the years. There's no use in getting worked up or annoyed. The time will come and then it will go. Don't waste your energy with impatience."

"This, too, shall pass," Trixie murmured with a sarcastic roll of her eyes and dropped back against the plush cushions of the sofa. Picking at the edge of the homemade afghan crocheted in vivid reds, yellows and oranges, she agreed softly, "I know you're right, Brian. I also know I'm being contrary. When I was at the store today, all I could think about was getting home." She gave a short giggle and then complained, her half-smile of disdain aimed entirely at herself, "Now that I'm home, I find myself wishing that I had stayed at work at least a little bit later. I may not have been that busy at the store but I wouldn't have had to spend so much time here, just sitting around and waiting for the time to go faster." She jabbed an accusing finger in the direction of the clock. "If you ask me, I think that thing is going backwards instead of forward. It's the cause of my frustration, as you have already guessed."

Brian recognized the disgruntled look on his sister's face. He had seen it often enough over the years. He leaned across the end table that Mart had scarred beyond repair when he was five years old and spoke, his voice deceptively serious, "Well, if you really need something to do, I'm sure I could call Moms in here. She's outside hanging up clothes right now. I'm certain that she would be glad to come up with a list of chores for you. The time would go much faster, wouldn't it?" His dark eyes stared at her with sham solemness while he tried not to laugh.

She picked up the closest pillow, a square one that her mother had repaired countless times during its surprisingly long life in the active Belden household, and hummed it at him, hitting him square in the chest and earning another set of deep, delighted chuckles from her brother. "Brian!" she admonished him while she worked hard to swallow back a startled giggle. "Have you ever known me to willingly search out chores that need doing? No, thank you!"

He held up his hands, admitting defeat while the pillow fell to the floor, forgotten. "Hey, all I was doing was trying to give you what you wanted. Helping out around the house would be the perfect way to make the time go by faster." He had trouble getting that statement out past his lips that continued to twitch with amusement.

"I'd rather be bored," she responded dryly, shuddering at the thought of washing dishes, vacuuming, or, horrors of horrors, dusting, especially on the afternoon before her anniversary with Jim. She eyed the various picture frames and knickknacks that were displayed around the room with faint distaste, not wanting to add up the countless hours she had spent at that particular task, and then her gaze settled on the remote control. It sat on the end table between her and Brian. It looked invitingly at her. She held her hand out for it. "I think I'll see what's on TV instead."

Brian handed over the remote and gave her a sage nod. "It may not be the most useful way to pass the time but I think you'll find it much more beneficial."

"You seem to be channeling Mart this afternoon. Lucky me," she sighed but accepted the remote with a tiny smile and flipped on the television set. She toed off her flip-flops and tucked her legs underneath her body. Getting comfortable, she aimed Brian a wide-eyed stare and remarked imploringly, "You know, Brian, since you're such a wonderful big brother and I'm the only one in our family who had to go into work today, maybe you would like to go to the kitchen and grab me a drink? I could certainly use one." She fluttered her lashes, copying a move that she had seen Di use on Mart countless times to remarkably effective results, and made her eyes as large as she could.

Unimpressed and unaffected, he nudged her shoulder. "Puppy dog eyes don't work on me, Trix. At least, not from you." He had a feeling that a certain hazel-eyed member of their group could use them quite effectively on him, should he ever get the courage to ask her out. Refusing to think about Honey, he added, "I'd recommend that you save them for Jim. He won't be able to tell you no." After he slowly stood up, he gave in and announced, "But I am heading into the kitchen for a snack. I'll be glad to grab you a drink. Strawberry pop?"

"Of course." Smiling gratefully at him, she began the fine art of channel surfing in order to make the great discovery of what was on during Saturday afternoons. Usually there was not much of anything. Today didn't look any different, she noted with a lip curled up with derision. "Thanks, Brian," she said absently while she concentrated on the television channels.

He grinned at the back of her curly head and whistled his way into the kitchen. Two minutes later, he had a bowl filled with chips, a bottle of water, and a can of that strawberry stuff that he considered to be the most horribly tasting concoction ever constructed sitting out on the kitchen counter. About to pick up the three items and bring them back into the living room, he was interrupted by the shrill ring of the phone. Caught in the act of eating a chip, he swallowed it down, grabbed the cordless, cradled it under his ear, and answered easily, "Crabapple Farm."

Dan's voice came through on the other end, loud, insistent and demanding. There wasn't an ounce of his normal warmness or friendliness to it. "Brian? Who's home with you?" he questioned immediately, uncaring that he was coming across as abrasive.

"Right now?" Brian's forehead wrinkled in surprise. The bowl cluttered back to the counter while he wondered why Dan sounded so authoritative and odd. "Ah, well, Dan, it's nice to hear from you, too," he replied sarcastically. When Dan only grunted in response, he reluctantly answered the question, "It's just me, Trixie and Moms right now. Dad, Bobby and Mart went into town to get a few supplies to fix the steps on the back porch. They are starting to warp a bit." He waited a beat before asking the most important question, "Why?"

Dan hadn't heard anything beyond the fact that Trixie was home. Having one worry settled, forgetting that Brian was completely in the dark and ignorant of the calls for help that had come from Mr. Lytell's store, he barked out loudly, "Who's at the store?"

"Store?" Brian parroted back, confused and wondering if his friend had suffered a head injury on the job. He turned away from the counter, forgetting the supplies, and started the short walk back into the living room. "What store? The hardware store?"

Dan jammed his key into the ignition of his truck and fired it up, stunned by his friend's obtuseness and out of patience himself. The situation was too dire for polite questions and good manners, as far as he was concerned. His answer reflected it, as did the string of muttered oaths. "Come on, Brian. Get it together. I don't care who is working at the hardware store."

"You're going to have to be clearer, Dan. I don't have a clue what you're talking about here." Brian stopped at the end of the hall. He caught the profile of his sister, noticed how relaxed and comfortable she was now looking, and had a very bad feeling start to settle over him. On slow, almost pained feet, he joined her in the room. "Clear it up for me, Dan."

"Mr. Lytell's," Dan answered sharply. He threw his truck into reverse, backed up and left the parking lot, following the two police cruisers on their way to the call. He shouldn't be leaving the station, should definitely not be on his way to a potential crime scene since he was only a lowly intern and in no way, shape or form legally affiliated with the police department, but there was nothing that could hold him back at the station. Not from this particular series of calls. He had to know what was happening. He had to help. The dispatcher hadn't seemed surprised when he had followed Sergeant Molinson and the other officers out of the station even though he hadn't been invited to ride along when the call came in. Correction. When the two calls for help came in. Not only two calls for help but they were requested at a place that was way too close to his home, where one of his closest friends happened to be employed. He flicked on his sunglasses and traveled down the main street of Sleepyside at a much higher rate of speed than was necessary and had more than a few sets of eyes following him curiously. Even then, he couldn't touch the speed of the cruisers.

Brian stared up at the ceiling. Unfortunately, he hadn't expected Dan to say anything less. The countdown of the top 100 songs of the '90's on VH1 continued blithely on while he answered slowly, "Honey." His blood started to chill at the thought of Honey at the store. Something was wrong. It had to involve Honey. "She's at the store today. She volunteered to take over for Trixie for the rest of the day." He gulped down a harsh breath of air before inquiring, "What's going on, Dan?"

She heard Brian. Completely uninterested in the countdown, Trixie's interested face popped up over the edge of the sofa. While number thirty-four was revealed to be _Semi-Charmed Life_ by Third Eye Blind, she leaned over the arm rest and grabbed his arm, all thoughts of relaxation gone, and stared into his anxious face. She didn't even remember that she had an important evening to get ready for. All she could think about was Honey, the store, and her brother's concerned expression. "What is it, Brian?" she interrupted, instantly alert and worried, so worried. "Are you talking to Dan? What's going on? What's the problem with Honey?"

He hooked the leg of the ottoman with his foot and dragged it over the hardwood floor in a manner his mother would never have approved of and sat down heavily. He put his head next to his sister's and held the phone so that they both could hear the person on the other end. "Be quiet and listen!" he ordered her in a sharp undertone before addressing Dan again. "Trixie's listening in now. She wants to know what's happening, too. Tell us, Dan," he insisted in his best doctor's voice, going for authoritative but more afraid that he ended up sounding desperate instead.

"All right." Dan ran a hand through his dark hair and watched the flashing police cars make a turn at a green light. If his calculations were correct, the police would make it to the store in somewhere between eight and ten minutes. He would be a minute or two behind them. "Honey's at the store, Trix, right?"

"Yes," she answered swiftly, sharing an uneasy look with Brian and crowding in even closer. "She came in around one-thirty, Dan. I left with Mart around two o'clock." Breathing in deeply, she asked the question that was practically begging to be asked, "Why?"

He was driving with tunnel vision. The only thought he had was getting to the store. Uncaring of the cars around him or the attractive passing scenery of the picturesque town of Sleepyside, he sucked in a deep breath, hating what he had to tell the two of them. "There has to be a problem at the store," he shared without preamble, flicking on his blinker and stopping at a red light. His sharp oath came through, loud and clear, while his fingers tapped out a rapid tattoo on his steering wheel. "Someone used the help button at the store about five minutes ago. Trixie knows the one I'm talking about. Mr. Lytell had it installed with his new security system."

Cold. So cold. Trixie thought it was an odd feeling to have on a warm, sultry June day when the eastern part of the United States was suffering from a nasty heat wave. "I know," she got out past the knot of fear threatening to swallow her and stared down at her unpainted fingernails. "I know. I showed it to Honey when I gave her a refresher course on how the store runs. She…she would know where it is." She stood up and slipped on her shoes.

Dan glanced up at the ceiling. He hadn't needed that information but it only served to double his own anxiety. Clearing his throat, he explained, "There's more, guys. Not more than a minute later, someone else called dispatch from a cell phone and ordered help for the store. Whoever it was didn't say what was going on. He or she just asked for help. I couldn't get a good look at the number of the cell so I don't know who it was." Taking a deep breath, swearing again under his breath when the red light seemed to last forever, he stated strongly, "Something's going on."

"I'll meet you at the store." Brian didn't need to ask if Dan was on his way. He knew his friend too well. Hanging up, he carelessly tossed the phone on the table and grabbed his keys that were helpfully hanging on a row of hooks before the front door.

Grim-faced and terrified, Trixie was already at the front door, waiting for him, her intentions clear and precise. "Let's go," she declared, her tone allowing for no objections. She hadn't missed the way Brian had volunteered to go to the store and hadn't included her. She wasn't going to allow it. She was going, whether he wanted to take her or not.

The stiff lines of her body showed him that it would be useless to insist that she stay behind which was what he wanted to tell her. It would only waste time and wouldn't serve any purpose at all. She would only hammer and yammer at him until he gave up and took her with him. Sighing, wondering frantically what could be happening at the little country store that could best be described as quaint, quiet, and calm, he nodded once and raced down the front porch steps, the screen door banging loudly behind them, and his sister at his heels. Neither responded when their mother called out to them. They sprinted to his car and were in it in a flash. Not caring how fast he was going, Brian tore out of their driveway and onto Glen Road, traveling as quickly as he dared to go. "We'll probably get to the store before the police," he decided after making a series of quick calculations in his mind.

"Hmm," she answered lowly, unnaturally silent. She sat on the edge of the passenger seat, seatbelt forgotten, almost as if she was urging the car to go even faster, and sent up many little prayers that they wouldn't find anything wrong at the store. Closing her eyes, she recalled the last sight she had of Honey, sitting at the counter with the newspaper spread out in front of her. _Please,_ she thought. _Please let Honey be in that exact position when we get there. Please let there be nothing wrong. Please let the calls for help be a mistake._ She slanted a glance at Brian, noted how a thick muscle was working on the side of his neck, and realized that he was as worried as she was. It didn't seem as if her prayers had a chance of being answered.

Brian slowed down enough to make the turn into the parking lot of the store. Annoyed, his eyebrows snapped together. "Exactly like I thought. No police yet," he grumbled out angrily.

"Only Jim's car," Trixie gasped sharply, pointing at the Jeep she knew extremely well. "Jim's here, too!" Full panic began to set in. Staring at the store, she swiftly came to the only conclusion that he must have been the one to call the dispatch center from his cell phone. A shaking hand covered her mouth while she realized that Honey and Jim had to be inside the store. They had to. She barely waited until the car had pulled to a stop before opening the passenger door.

Brian grabbed her elbow, halting her progress even as he cut off the engine. "Don't you dare go in there before we know what we're facing!" he hissed at her, his eyes boring a hole into her and through her, a serious frown on his handsome face. "Trixie! Two of our friends could be in danger. We have to know what we're up against before we do anything. It's not time to give in to impatience. We must be careful. Not only that but the police are supposed to be here soon. You remember our phone call with Dan only a few minutes ago, don't you?"

She turned sick, worried eyes on Brian, allowing his frustration to roll off of her without a moment's consideration and overlooked the well-meaning if completely useless lecture. She hadn't expected anything less. "Brian, I can't sit back and do nothing. I can't. You should know that about me by now." The store stood in front of them, apparently quiet and serene but she could feel from somewhere deep within her bones that it was only a façade. Whatever was happening inside the store was the exact opposite.

Brian sighed deeply and gave in. "I know," he agreed without trying to dredge up another argument. "I didn't expect anything less from you. Come on. Let's go."

Trixie was out of the car like a shot and hurried towards the front of the store. "We've got to find out what is happening in that store," she said, admiring the way her brother's long legs allowed him to catch up to her without any problems at all, making a mockery of her head start. "We have to. It's Jim and Honey in there and we need to do what we can to help them out."

Swallowing back another lecture that wouldn't serve any other purpose but to waste more time and irritate her even further, he followed her up the porch steps. Besides, he needed to know what was going on, just as much as she needed to. They were their friends, as well as fellow Bob-Whites, and they required help. Help they would get, no matter what the consequences or how dire the situation. "Let's see what we can find out," he mumbled. Their combined steps were light and easy, in direct contrast to the rapid pounding in their hearts. He pulled back the screen door, moving it as quietly as he could without causing it to squeak. Then he tried the front door. The locked door was a dead give-away that something was terribly wrong. They both stared at in bemused shock.

"Oh, Brian." Trixie drew in a sharp breath. She pointed to the closed sign, the next clue, and didn't like the mystery that was unraveling in front of her at all. "This isn't good. It can't be."

"Tell me about it." He cupped his ear but couldn't hear the wailing sound of the police sirens that Dan had promised them. He tried to peer into the store but couldn't see anything beyond the closed and dusty Venetian blinds. "I can't see anything. I don't hear anything, either."

"I can," Trixie whispered back from a window a few feet away. Crouching down so that only the top of her head could be seen from anyone on the inside, she tapped the side of the weather-beaten side building and looked through the screen. "Over here. But keep low. You don't want to be seen from anyone inside," she cautioned him needlessly.

Brian hunkered down besides her and peered into the store. He looked beyond the stocked shelves and saw a movement towards the back of the large room. "I see something," he declared softly, pointing in the direction of the counter. "Over there, by the counter. I can see…"

"Honey," Trixie finished soberly for him. She didn't add that she could see the back of a man, slim of build but with muscular arms showing, and with a stance that could only be termed menacing. He was threatening Honey, that much was obvious. The knowledge made her blood start to boil with righteous indignation. With blue eyes sparking with fire, she inched forward, trying to hear what was being said, but came up with nothing. The voices weren't clear. Too muted. Too far away. The words were indistinguishable. But she didn't have any trouble deciphering the look of terror on her best friend's face. Through all the different adventures they had shared, through the numerous times they had been captured, she had never seen Honey look like that. Scared, helpless, and hopeless. It made her heart cry out in pain for her friend. "I can't tell who he is. He's keeping his back to us."

At that exact moment he glanced in their direction, almost as if he had sensed their presence or heard her statement. Trixie and Brian both ducked underneath the building as quickly as they could, breaths held, while they waited to see if he had seen them. When they didn't hear any footsteps coming their way after few long and tense seconds, Brian muttered lowly, "Trixie." He had catalogued the changes in the man, recognized him with only that quick glance, and stared at his sister. She didn't appear to have recognized him yet. "I know who it is. It's Sax Jenner."

Sucking in a harsh breath, she looked back into the window, and saw him. This time she could see his profile. She eagerly studied his face while she nodded her head in agreement with Brian. "Gleeps! It is him. And now he's forcing her to go with him. It looks like he wants to take her into the back room." Turning back, she added, "We can't wait for the police, Brian. We can't. We have to help her now. Honey looked so scared and helpless. She needs us."

He had already come to the same conclusion. Honey needed all of the help she could get. The fright had seemed to roll off of her in waves. He could practically see it; it was that intense. "Yes," he responded in complete agreement. "She does. She needs help."

Trixie's eyebrows lifted in surprise. She hadn't expected her brother to agree with her again. She had expected to have to counteract each and every objection he had come up with. "Well, then, we need the answers to a few important questions before we go storming in. Did you see a weapon? Did you see Jim?"

"No, to both your questions." He ran a hand through his dark hair and considered their best shot at getting inside the store. "I didn't see Jim. I didn't see a weapon, either. He was standing behind the counter the entire time. If he had a weapon, the counter would have hidden it from our sight. That's not to say that there isn't one. We'll have to be careful," he cautioned her. He wasn't going to sit back and wait, not if he could do something about it. Coming to a decision, he suggested, "Let's take a walk around the building. We may find Jim on the other side." Or they may find another way in, one where they couldn't be spotted by anyone on the inside of the building, and maybe the exact same entrance that Jim had most likely used.

With an expressionless face, Trixie followed along, trying not to imagine what could be happening inside. They carefully stepped off the porch and rounded the corner of the building, two intense individuals bent on assisting a friend. When they reached the back, she pointed to the crate that stood in front of the completely open window and grabbed her brother's arm. "Right there, Brian!" she whispered excitedly. "That must be how Jim got inside. Come on, let's go! We don't have a minute to lose!" She held his hand and tried to pull him forward.

He refused to budge, wouldn't let her pull him towards the window. "Trixie," he murmured insistently, prepared for her reaction. "I'm going inside. You are going to stay out here. It's too dangerous. You are not to go into the building, do you understand me?"

"No, I don't." Eyes snapping, she looked mutinous and crossed her hands over her chest. She would have stamped her foot if the situation had allowed for it. "I'm going in with you. My best friend and my boyfriend are in there. You can't ask me to wait outside. It's not going to happen."

"I'm not going to waste time talking with you out here." He stared deep into her eyes, hoping to infuse the seriousness of the moment with one well-aimed glare. "We don't have the time for it. Stay here, Trix. I don't want to see you inside. It's too dangerous. You would only be putting yourself in harm's way and you would end up becoming someone else we have to worry about. Stay here. Jim and I won't have to be concerned with your location. We'll know that you are safe." Not taking the time to soften his overly harsh words, already planning on doing that after the situation had been resolved in the best and hopeful manner possible, he pivoted on his heels and rushed towards the crate, leaving his sister to stare, openmouthed, after him. With a quick jump and a show of upper-body strength, a testament to his strict exercise regime while at college, he was up and inside the building.

"Too dangerous, my foot," Trixie sneered after him, eyes narrowed into blue slits of fury. She gave in to the urge to stomp her foot once he was out of sight and declared to the air around her, "I'm not some kind of a helpless, defenseless female who's going to faint at the first sign of trouble. You should know that by now. Stay behind? Like hell, Brian Belden," she seethed angrily. Giving him only enough time to actually believe that she had heeded his damn directive, she started forward, moving with a stealthness that seemed to be a fundamental part of her. Testing it, the crate creaked when she stood on it but it didn't give way. It took a little more effort for her to get through the window than her brother due to her shorter stature but, on the third jump and with the assistance of a small grunt, she managed to land on the windowsill and pull herself through it, into the back room. Finding herself on top of the desk, she climbed quickly down and scurried towards the doorway, flinching at the flip-flop sound her shoes made with each step. Deciding to get rid of them, she kicked them off and stood in the doorway in her bare feet, her hand covering her mouth. The sight before her brought her to an immediate halt. Fascinated, her hand covering her mouth, all she could do was watch and pray for the people inside.


	12. Chapter 12

**Breakaway **

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Eleven

Unaware of the two sets of horrified eyes peering inside the front of the store, watching the unfolding scene from a different and farther away vantage spot, Jim held his breath and listened as Honey was brought closer and closer to his hiding spot. He strained to hear the sounds of sirens in the distance but there was nothing. Still nothing. He couldn't believe that the police hadn't arrived yet. It felt like at least an hour had past since he had called the dispatch center even though in reality it was only roughly about five or six minutes. Crouching low, knowing that he would have only one chance to catch the armed man off guard, he remained as still and unmoving as a marble statue, his gaze focused solely on the gun in the man's hand, needing to know where it was before he made his move.

Left with only a pitiful few options available to her, none of which she particularly liked, Honey decided to forgo pacifying him and dug in her heels again. She refused to go quietly, had too much pride and strength within her to not put up a fight, even though he outweighed her and was certainly physically stronger than her. "Let me go," she ordered him in what she hoped was a forceful tone of voice but it only sounded pathetic, even to her own ears. He merely laughed in response and held on tighter. She tried to pry off the arm that was wrapped around her waist like a steel band but didn't get anywhere. She was stuck. He dragged her farther away from the counter, past the last row of shelves stocked with groceries within the store, and headed towards the back room.

Frantically, she glanced around the store but couldn't find anything or anyone in sight to help her. No police. No weapons. Absolutely nothing. All she could see were two sets of shelves. Her hysterical mind noted with blatant stupidity that one set was overstuffed with canned goods of different varieties; the other carried various types of bread and rolls. Neither seemed a feasible option for her. Her brain started to shut down after he made short work of her pitiful attempts to halt him. Unable to come up with a viable way out, she concentrated on the simple act of breathing, which wasn't as simple as it should be anymore. Each breath required a nearly superhuman effort while she hoped and prayed for some way out of the mess she had unwittingly found herself in. "You…you don't have to do this," she found the courage to say, thinking that she may be able to talk him out of it. It seemed to be her only chance at stopping him. "You can leave right now. No one's here but me. I…I won't say anything. I give you my word. You can leave, go back to wherever you go, and no one will ever need to know that you were in the store or that you stole the money. No one. I won't tell a soul. I promise." Her hazel eyes pleaded with him to believe her words.

He stopped their progress, three large steps away from the back room, and smiled down at her, a twisted, evil smile that caused sweat to pop out of her pores. "Too late, sweetheart. It's much too late. Our course has been set. My plans have been made. You don't have a choice or even much of a chance," Jenner sneered back with a chilling laugh. "I would never take you up on that offer. You and your group are a bunch of nosy, annoying do-gooders who have probably never even jay-walked in your life, let alone turned your backs on a criminal act. You would have to be crazy to think that I don't know that. You won't do anything that would be outside of the law. I know it. You know it. If I were to walk out that door and leave you right here, unharmed, you wouldn't let me get ten feet before you put the incompetent Sleepyside PD on my tail." He waved the gun under her nose and smirked. "No, thank you. Good try."

Logic wasn't going to work. Honey bit her lip, trying to come up with another way to keep him from harming her. "Won't this violate your parole?" she wondered aloud, praying she had hit on something that would stop him from doing any more harm or breaking any more laws. Surely the thought of going back to prison would be enough to deter him. It couldn't be a pleasant place to live, she thought with a shiver.

"Only if they catch me," he remarked idly, unperturbed by her mention of his possible destination. He seriously doubted if they would, possessing that almost god-like quality where he truly believed that he couldn't and wouldn't be touched. Right now, all that mattered was the two of them, blissfully alone, and in the solitude of the store. He reached up and slipped the dark brown holder out of her hair. Eyes gleamed with appreciation at the honey-colored mass that spilled down and around her shoulders. It pleased him, the way it framed the ashen white of her face. It made her look more like a mannequin in a store window instead of a living, breathing person. Someone who could be manipulated and moved to his own specifications. He didn't see her as a human being with hopes and dreams, not anymore. The change in thinking helped make his purposes that much easier to fulfill. He would rather view her as an object, not as a person. "I like your hair down," he murmured with deceptive softness and caught a strand of it in his hand, holding it up to watch the sunlight catch the tints of mahogany and dark gold that worked together to bring out her pretty coloring. "I like it a lot."

She sucked in a ragged breath and snapped her head back. He didn't let go like she had hoped. Her defiant motion only served to help him tug on it, causing her scalp to tingle with the pain. She bit back the small gasp at the contact, refusing to give him the satisfaction of the knowledge that he had hurt her. "I prefer wearing it up," she replied without thinking, ignoring the sting and holding herself as for away from his body as she possibly could.

He didn't like her answer and wrapped the strand around his hand. It was smooth and sleek and made him remember the Barbie dolls of his younger sister that he used to decapitate at his own will, much to the annoyance of his parents and the misery of his sister. "It won't really matter how you like to wear your hair anymore," he finally conceded after staring at her for a long moment and regretfully letting the hair fall back into its normal spot. "Having your hair down will serve as your last hair style, I'm afraid." Feeling supremely confident, he tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants, truly believing that one slip of a girl wouldn't be able to overpower him and that he didn't need to have the weapon at the ready anymore. He had her right where he wanted her to be and he couldn't imagine anything happening other than the delight of his own dark objectives.

Hunkered down besides the door, almost sick to his stomach with the conversation he was willingly eavesdropping in on, Jim felt impotent fury began to build within him. If they were only a few steps closer, he would have an excellent chance of taking that hated man down without Honey getting harmed in the process. As it stood right now, with his sister held against Jenner and the gun still in his possession, he didn't have a choice but to wait. _Closer, closer,_ ran through his panicked mind while he tried not to stare at Honey's face and chose to glare instead at Jenner's profile. It was the only way to keep himself focused, to help keep his own anger and frustration at bay.

A sharp noise came from the back of the room, startling him and breaking his morbid fascination with the scene in front of him. He couldn't help but glance up from his spot and felt shocked surprise roam momentarily across his face. He would have laughed if the occasion warranted it. Since it didn't, he settled for a curt nod instead. It wasn't the help he had been expecting but he would accept it gratefully. And he couldn't ask for anyone better. A ghost of a grin touched his lips as his best friend came through the window and landed heavily on the desk. "Brian," he mouthed quietly, waving his friend over. "Over here. Quick!"

The location of their last friend was solved. Moving as softly as he could, he slid off the desk, spilling the last of the papers onto the floor, and rushed over to Jim. He crouched down on the other side of the doorway and listened in, hearing words that were causing tiny arrows of fear to travel up and down his spine. Part of him wanted to know what had been said before he had arrived but now wasn't the time to think about the before. He needed to face the now head-on, for Honey's sake. "What are we going to do?" he whispered immediately, needing a plan of action to help the terrified girl within the store.

"You just tipped the scales." Jim nodded approvingly, eyes glinting for the first time with anticipation and excitement instead of worry, fury and fear. Two against one was much better, helped even out the odds in their favor. It meant that they could tag-team the man, take him even more by surprise, and bring him down much quicker than if he was the only one to attempt it. It didn't matter that their tactics would be unfair. The man inside didn't deserve any consideration. It was a struggle for a loved one's life, for Honey's life, and they both had the same steely motivation to drive them on. All they had to do was watch out for the gun in his possession and hopefully get Honey away from the danger. Simple, he thought cynically. "Let them get a little closer. Then we'll go. You hit him high and I'll hit him low."

It sounded good to him. Short, easy and to the point. He could uphold his end of the deal easily. "Gun?" Brian questioned, staring at the object that Jenner had recently tucked away. He, too, couldn't look at Honey. It hurt too much to see her cocooned in terror.

"I'll take care of it." Jim flexed his hand and watched as his sister attempted to squirm again out of the arms of the man in front of him and silently cheered her on, proud of the way she was staying so brave and strong in the face of such terror. She was throwing up every roadblock she could think of to stop him. "A little closer," he mumbled under his breath, poised to join the twosome at any possible second. "Just a little closer."

Honey refused to give in to the fright that wanted to swallow her whole. Wanting to act like Trixie, she pictured in her mind what her friend would do if she found herself in the same situation. Trixie wouldn't go down without a fight. The truth of that thought rang out with absolute certainty. With thin lips pulling back into a grim sneer that had never graced her face before, she vowed that she wouldn't, either. Believing that help wasn't coming, that she was completely and totally on her own, she drew in one last breath and, left with no apparent other recourse, knowing that she would rather infuriate him than go peacefully into the realm of pain that he had planned for her, she kicked him in the shin as hard as the leather of her sandals would allow. It was more of a nuisance than a hindrance but her second act was much more rewarding. Then she brought her hand up. Her semi-long nails left two long, satisfying scratches on the side of his deceptively handsome face.

"What the hell…" ripped out of him viciously, completely taken by surprise by her actions. He had firmly believed that he had her cowed, that she was under his thumb and that he wouldn't have any problems with her. His fingers dug into her waist. "That was a stupid thing to do," he informed her while he felt the scratches on his cheek.

Honey only glared at her, her eyes narrowed with unexpressed anger. "Damn you," she bit out, furious enough to curse. "I told you to let me go. Let me go!"

"I'll let you go, all right," he hissed back at her. Finding out that his own beliefs were wrong, reacting to the pain of the scratches, he twirled the thin girl away from him with a fierce flick of his wrist like she was a ragdoll. Her sharp gasp speared through the air before she collided into the corner of a shelf. The wood splintered and broke upon the force of the contact. She bounced off and back, caught the side of her head against the counter, and crumpled into a boneless heap on the floor, her long hair covering her face from view, while two fully-stocked shelves of canned goods slipped down to the floor with an eerily musically rhythm and then rolled around until they landed underneath the shelves. When she didn't make a move to get up, he toed her with his shoe, unbelievably pleased with the sight of her laid out before him. As far as he was concerned, she deserved it for her defiant actions. She deserved it and a whole hell of a lot more. "That's enough, dear. It's time to face the music. You can get up now."

Caught off-guard, the sound of rapid, pounding feet coming from behind him hardly registered. Unable to prepare himself, he felt something hard hit him in the back, felt something even harder grab him around the waist, and was slammed into the same shelves before tumbling down to the floor without a chance to stand up and defend himself. Releasing a thunderous cry of outrage, he flipped over on his back, ignoring an uppercut to his chin that had him seeing stars, as well as another to his stomach, and found himself looking into two pairs of absolutely furious eyes, one a dark onyx and one a glaring emerald. Unfortunately, he remembered the two very well. "Well, well," he managed to get out in an attempt at foolish bravado, unwilling to admit that he was afraid or that he suddenly believed that he was going to be the one coming out on the losing end of this particular battle. "Look what we have here. Two would-be heroes, ready to rescue their damsel in distress." Cursing the fact that the situation was spiraling out of his control, his hand began to slowly inch towards the gun on his waist, the lone option he had left to take care of two extremely ticked off men before him.

It was exactly the move that Jim had anticipated. He attacked again, uncaring of the fact that it could be considered unsportsmanlike to kick a man when he was down. Spurred on by a righteous rage, his sneakered foot connected with the downed man's stomach, eliciting a sharp cry of pain, while he made a move to fulfill his promise to Brian. He leaned over the man and stealthily reached for the gun that was in the waistband of the man's shorts, more than capable of using the weapon, while Brian threw another punch to Jenner's face.

It was the one thing he couldn't allow to happen. Jenner couldn't give his weapon up. Reaching for the gun at the same time, ignoring the nearly numb side of his left face and the blood that was beginning to pool in his mouth, he kicked out himself, catching Jim in the knees and sending him sprawling back while he brought a strong fist up to make direct contact with Brian's eye. He felt for the gun, had the sleek and dangerous power of it in his hand, and nearly laughed. It was a glorious but extremely brief victory. A freckled hand intervened; cleanly ripped it out of his hand and sent it flying. The gun slid across the floor, stopping a good six feet away from them, and well out of his current reach.

Willing to do anything to get to the gun, he grabbed the only weapon at his disposal. The frenzied part of his mind noticed that it was a can of Campbell's tomato soup. He whipped it in the direction of the redhead, whose name he couldn't remember, and watched it bounce off the side of his face. It gave him a few precious seconds he needed to start to inch away from the two young men who seemed hell-bent on spilling his blood.

Brian heard the clunk of metal against bone and rejoined the fray, hampered by an eye that was already beginning to blacken and swell. He gave a gleeful jump and caught Jenner's legs, holding on tightly and preventing him from reaching his destination. With arms of steel, he kept him in place, smirking with delight when he saw that Jenner wasn't able to close the distance between himself and the gun. He pulled the slimmer man back from the gun and quietly thanked his friend at college for talking him into working out at the gym.

Jenner reached his hand out to the gun that was now about seven inches away from his hand. It was his salvation, sitting just out of his reach, tantalizing him, but unable to come to him. Releasing an inventive string of curse words, he flipped back over and brought a knee up, nearly hitting a sensitive area on the man pulling him away from the gun. He didn't need much. All he needed was two, maybe three, seconds, tops, and then he could take possession of the one thing that could tip the scales back in his favor.

Brian let out a sharp grunt but shifted his lower body just in time. "Dammit, Jim! Get the gun!" He growled out the order fiercely and gripped the legs tighter. Then he began to forcefully drag the body farther away from the gun despite the fight that Jenner put up.

Jenner kicked out, scrunched up his body, attempting to do anything possible to keep Brian from sliding him across the floor, and even managed to pull out a good hunk of Brian's hair but he couldn't get a strong enough hold on the worn floor to prevent him from being dragged away. "Don't touch me," he hissed out, throwing out every possible curse word he could think of. "Let go of me. You need to let me go." He didn't realize that his words were an eerie echo of Honey's from only a few short minutes ago. But he had enough street sense to know that he was almost defeated, that he wasn't going to walk away from this one unless he regained possession of his weapon.

"Not on your life," Brian snapped back, his normally calm and sedate face carrying an expression that had never been reflected on it before. He glanced towards Honey, saw the way she seemed to be hiding her head from the action going on, and wished that she would get herself away from the scene. It wasn't a safe place for her to be; laying on the floor, off to the side of the fight. He didn't want to think what could happen if Jenner was able to get his hands on her or the gun again. "Jim?" he tossed out impatiently.

He didn't need any other words to know what Brian was asking of him. Jim picked up the gun and leveled it on the defeated man on the floor, staring down the man with a smug expression on his face. "I've got it now, Brian. We don't have to worry about him anymore. He's not going anywhere." He brushed away a bit of blood from the cut on his cheek.

Brian ignored his own aches and pains to smirk down at Jenner. "You're right. That's enough of that." Sharing the same belief with Jim, he drew back his fist and delivered a well-aimed and extremely strong punch to the man's face. It snapped his head back and into the floor, caused blood to pour out of his nose, and earned Brian a look of utter hatred. Shaking his hand out afterwards, he dusted his hands off on the front of his mesh shorts and slowly stood up. He took the time to share a relieved and purely male smile with his best friend. Then he glanced towards the front door, expecting the police to break it down at any moment. "Would you look at that? The cavalry's finally here," he mumbled under his breath.

Jim heard the sirens as they wailed on their way up to the store and rocked back on his heels, intensely pleased with the way things had turned out. "About damn time," he answered curtly, keeping Jenner on the floor with the gun. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that he could put a bullet into the despicable man if it was needed. Part of Jim, a part that he hadn't even known existed, almost wished that Jenner would make a move against him or Brian so that he could do just that. However, the ex-convict seemed to be content to stay on the floor and stare out at them with soulless eyes.

Brian glanced down at the defeated man. He had a flash of a long-ago memory, recalled how the man had looked silently but furiously on in the crowded kitchen of Crabapple Farm after the Dodge children were returned to their parents and the pieces of that mystery had been put back together, with most of the people in attendance quiet and a good part of the attention focused on his sister as she had found herself in the position to explain the different parts of the case to Sergeant Molinson and the others in the room. He rapidly came to the only possible conclusion. Jenner hadn't happened by the store to rob it. He hadn't come in with intentions of hurting Honey. She had merely been a substitute. He had come here for one person only…Trixie. Exhaling sharply, he shifted his attention to Jim. About to ask him, the person he was concerned about burst through the doorway to the back room.

Having been held spellbound throughout the length of the fight, unable to do anything but watch it, Trixie finally inserted herself into the scene. "Thank goodness!" she managed to get out, feeling an uncomfortable sting of tears and rushed up to the closest participant, her brother. "You got him!"

"Trixie," Brian turned towards her, a long-suffering look on his face, and kept his newest thoughts unspoken. He didn't want to scare her. He certainly didn't want to make her feel guilty. "If I remember correctly, you were supposed to wait outside." He couldn't miss the look that Jenner aimed her way and had his suspicions confirmed. It was filled with nearly a palatable hatred. It was obvious to Brian that the man completely blamed Trixie, that he despised her with a passion, although it wasn't only his sister who had helped put him back in prison. Brian gave her a hug and pressed her against his side, would have hidden her behind his back if she would have let him in order to keep the man from staring at her, and questioned sarcastically, "Outside, Trixie? Remember? Where it is safe?"

"Right," she responded with a shaky laugh, ignoring the man at her boyfriend's feet and the shiny gun in Jim's competent hands. "Outside. Yes. That's just the place I wanted to be." A wide smile bloomed across as she made eye-contact with Jim. It quickly turned to a frown when she saw the cut on his cheekbone. "Oh, Jim."

Jim sent a smile her way but didn't make a move to go to her, not with his job of keeping Jenner down for the count. He didn't want to give the man a Hollywood-type horror movie finale scene, where the bad guy gets to come back again and again to terrorize the group of young adults. "It's not in you to stay back, is it, Trix?" he inquired easily, ignoring her pointed look at the side of his face.

"You know me too well, Jim." She skirted around the man, staying well out of his reach, and hurried over to Honey, who still hadn't lifted her head or said a word to her friends. Starting to feel worried, wondering why Honey hadn't joined them, she knelt down beside her and spoke softly, "Hey, Honey. It's okay. You're safe. Jim and Brian are here. You can get up now." When her friend didn't respond, her frown deepened and she slowly smoothed back the curtain of hair that hid her face. "Come on, Honey." She didn't move. She didn't even answer. When she saw the stain of blood on her own hand, Trixie felt her blue eyes widen. "Brian!" she shrilled out, whirling around to find her brother. He would know what to do. She had every confidence in him.

He stood next to Jim, studying the man who had dared to try and harm a Bob-White with disgust, and answered easily, without comprehending the thread of worry in her voice, "What is it, Trixie?" He didn't even look at her.

"It's Honey!" she shot back, staring up at him with frightened eyes. She slowly held up her hand. The red drew his attention immediately while Jim gave a sharp gasp from behind her. "Brian, it's Honey! She must have hit her head when he threw her into the shelves. She's unconscious, she's bleeding a little and she's not moving."

Jenner released a low, deep chuckle that seemed to be the embodiment of pure evil and had the three conscious people staring at him in varying degrees of outrage. "At least I got one of you," he remarked brazenly and then let out a sharp cry when Jim stomped on his hand. He dropped his head, refusing to look at anyone else in the store again, and sent out a string of long and vivid swear words for what should have been.

Brian was at her side in two steps. "Honey?" he questioned softly. "Honey?" he asked again, his voice growing more insistent. Just like Trixie had said, she didn't respond. Glancing up at his sister and with gentle hands, he turned Honey around. And drew in an almost painful breath at the sight of the small gash on her temple. Blood was slowly seeping out from the cut while a large knot of a bruise was already purpling and swelling. "Oh, Honey," he murmured, cradling her head on his lap and smoothing back her hair while two police officers burst through the locked front door of the store, sending shards of glass and wood streaming through the air.


	13. Chapter 13

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Twelve

High above within the canopy of trees, the birds stopped their happy chirping with the advent of the shrill siren of the ambulance starting up in their vicinity and flew off as one into the woods, startled by the sudden sound. A member of a solemn four with Brian, Jim and Dan, Trixie flinched at the unholy sound herself and closed her eyes to block out the sight of the vehicle as it pulled away from the overflowing parking lot with Honey inside. She wrapped her arms around her body to chase away an unexpected chill. When Jim slid a comforting arm around her shoulder, she immediately burrowed into him, recalling the past few minutes. It had been awful, just as terrible as the frightening show she had caught the ending of inside the store with her brother, her boyfriend, her best friend reluctantly taking on starring roles against a former nemesis. Observing her best friend loaded into the ambulance had capped it off. It was a sight she never wanted to see again. At least Honey, being Honey, had smiled reassuringly at them before the door had slammed shut behind her. It was a small consolation but it made her feel a little better. Turning to their resident 'doctor', she sought his professional opinion. She asked hesitatingly, wondering what his diagnosis would be, "What do you think will happen with Honey, Brian?"

"Honey regained consciousness before the paramedics got here. She was only out for a few minutes," he answered after a long moment, pathetically grateful that he had been the first one Honey had seen when her pretty hazel eyes had fluttered open on the floor in the crowded store filled to overflowing with Bob-Whites, a handcuffed and sullen ex-con, and cops galore. He had appreciated the way she had focused on him as if he had become her anchor through the scene that she obviously found confusing. He wished he had been able to travel with her in the ambulance but the paramedics had been insistent that they only had room for the patient and no one else. Not even her brother had been able to ride along with her. Trixie's not-so-gently prod to the stomach with her elbow prompted him to shake off his reverie and continue, "Obviously, she'll have to be checked out at the hospital. I think she will most likely be kept overnight for observation. She will need to have the special glue adhesive to close the small cut along her temple. She probably has a concussion from the force of the fall but she should be fine. She'll have a killer headache for awhile but that will be about it." She also didn't have any current memories of the incident, hadn't been able to answer even a simple question about what had transpired in the store when Sergeant Molinson had put aside his usually gruff manner and had asked her gently and with a careful understanding that had shocked Brian, but he didn't share that with his friends, who hadn't been near enough to witness it. Thinking about what he had seen himself in the store, he had a strong feeling that it was a good thing. It may be better for Honey not to remember everything.

Trixie shivered even though Brian had managed to confirm her thoughts. Staying overnight at the hospital had not been much fun. It was one experience she had not enjoyed partaking in a few years earlier. At least Honey had been with her, right by her side, and she hadn't been alone. Now Honey was in the ambulance that had disappeared from sight, by herself, most likely with a concussion on top of it…her long, low sigh said it all. Her hand automatically slipped into Jim's, seeking even more comfort and support from him. "Poor Honey," she murmured quietly.

Dan kept the wayward yet truthful thought that she had been extremely lucky to himself. It could have been much worse. He had watched one of the officers carry out the weapon from the store. He only had to look at Brian's black eye and the cut on Jim's face to know that the potential had been there for something really, really bad to have happened. Somehow, the Bob-Whites had managed to cheat that 'something' again. When he shifted his long legs, he caught sight of the approaching and solemn-faced officer. A colorful oath exploded vibrantly in his mind. He turned to the new arrival, smoothed all expression from his face, and prepared for the inevitable.

Sergeant Molinson ignored the other three for the moment. Instead, he did his best to stare down one Daniel Mangan, well aware of the fact that the young man shouldn't be at the crime scene. Instead, Dan should be hard at work at his desk in the corner of the back room at the police station. He certainly hadn't been given permission to leave the station, let alone show up where he clearly wasn't supposed to be. One artfully raised eyebrow said it all.

Dan refused to shuffle his feet. He wouldn't allow the sergeant to intimidate him and readied himself to face the music. After all, he had two strikes against him. He had left his post at the station, without permission from his supervisor or anyone else there, and had also willingly and knowingly entered a crime scene when he clearly had no right to do so. It clearly went against his job description and made him a liability at the same time. Wondering if he was about to lose his summer job, he squared his shoulders, stood stock-still and met the glare coming his way with an unapologetic look of his own. He wasn't going to apologize. In his mind, he had done the only thing he could possibly have done.

"Mangan," the sergeant greeted him immediately, doing his best to hide the fact that he wasn't surprised the young intern had shown up at the scene. Truth to tell, he would have been disappointed if he hadn't come. It only proved further to the sergeant that Dan would make an admirable police officer one day, should that be the course the young man chose after completing his degree. He wouldn't mind having him on his force one day. But he wasn't going to let him off too easy. He had broken protocol, after all. "I don't seem to remember changing your hours today. You should still be at the station, not on your way home."

Dan had the grace to flush, hearing the slight sting of the reprimand behind the easily spoken words. While he had very valid reasons for leaving the station, none of them would have served to appease the sergeant. He didn't have a leg to stand on and he knew it, which only served to make him more embarrassed. "You didn't change my hours," he offered simply and candidly.

That was all Sergeant Molinson needed. Pleased that Dan hadn't hidden behind a string of excuses, he nodded his head once and declared, "We'll see that you make up the time next week." Then he turned to the rest of the Bob-Whites, missed the sight of Dan blowing out a relieved breath, and studied each of them. First Brian, then Jim and finally alighting on the one he fully expected to be able to clear up all of the unanswered questions that he had. His sigh was one of longtime pain and suffering. "Well, Detective Belden, would you care to enlighten me as to what happened this time?" he began.

She choked out a startled laugh, unsure whether she should be flattered or insulted by the way he had addressed her, and felt the familiar stain of the flush touch her cheeks. She chewed on her bottom lip before quietly admitting, "I, ah, I don't know, Sergeant. I really don't. Believe it or not, I probably know about as much as you do right now, maybe even less." Her words rang with conviction as she added, almost mournfully, "I wasn't a part of it. Not this time. I only came in at the tail end of it."

Surprise momentarily flickered in his eyes before it was extinguished. He hadn't been expecting it. If anything, he had thought she would be able to give him a lengthy dissertation on the events that had occurred inside Mr. Lytell's store, as well as the reasoning for Sax Jenner's motivation to attempt to rob it in the first place. "That's unusual," he grumbled under his breath, seeing the truth of it on her face. He made a triangle with his fingers and considered his next step. "Well, then, I guess I'll have to check with the others. I know that Mangan here must have been behind us, probably driving at a high rate of speed that would have earned him a ticket on any other day when the police force wasn't already busy with this call so he is clearly out of the know, too." He swallowed back a chuckle when Dan turned bright red again but looked at the two silent men in front of him. "That means I only have two options left. Belden, Frayne? Which one of you can tell me what happened in there?" He hooked a thumb in the direction of the store.

Jim hesitated before dropping his arm from Trixie and stepping forward. "I had a front row seat for a good part of it, Sergeant Molinson. I'm the one who called into dispatch for help earlier, too. After that, I climbed in through the back window. I was able to witness most of what happened between Honey and Jenner." His blood chilled at the thought of what Jenner had intended for Trixie. Almost of their own violation, his eyes slid in her direction. She was too smart not to eventually figure out that she was the intended target but he vowed that he would do whatever he could to keep her from learning every single thing about the terrifying moments in the store. Decision made, knowing he would do whatever he could to shield her from the truth in its awful entirety, he turned all of his attention back to the sergeant. "I'll be glad to share with you what I know about it."

Trixie felt the loss of him immediately. She unconsciously copied him step for step, inserting herself into the conversation and cocked an ear to the side, more than interested in what Jim had to tell the sergeant, and waited expectantly. The need to know was acute, as usual, and was the driving force behind her actions. She had to start putting together the pieces of an unexpected, unusual, and horrible puzzle, hoping to make some sense about what had happened to Honey and to Mr. Lytell's store. She bit the inside of her mouth to keep from asking her own questions and did her best to stand as still as she could.

Sergeant Molinson whipped out a small pad and a pen from the front pocket of his shirt, ready to jot down his notes and complete his part of the investigation. "I'll need your information for the report," he informed Jim matter-of-factly. "Luckily for us, this will be an open and closed case. There won't be a leg for his lawyer to stand on. We caught Jenner in a criminal act, red-handed, and also have proof that he more than violated his parole. It won't be a complicated matter, not this time around. He'll be back on his way to prison to finish out the rest of his sentence, plus we'll be able to add a few more years for the added charges of possessing a deadly weapon, attempted robbery, and assault and battery. It'll be a long time before he'll able to see the bright light of day again. Since this is the second time he's violated parole, I doubt if he will ever be considered for it again." He added the last bit of information in an off-handed manner. "He's only been out for about two weeks, you know. I'm amazed he blew his freedom so quickly."

Jim nodded his head but the words didn't sink in. Well-versed in the ways of one inquisitive Trixie Belden, he didn't have to look to the side to know that she was now standing beside him, probably with the curious expression on her face that he could sketch, had he possessed that ability. Not one ounce surprised that she had closed the distance between them, that she was right next to him and eager to hear his part of the story, he tried to think of the best way to keep her out of it. "One minute," he requested quickly. "Please."

The sergeant frowned. He opened his mouth, about to ask him why, when he saw the way Jim gave an unobtrusive slant of his eyes in Trixie's direction. Understanding dawned swiftly. "I'll be over there, in the shade," he said gruffly and pointed to the side of the building, a good twenty feet away and well out of earshot of the small group. "Come over when you're ready."

Jim nodded gratefully and faced Brian, preparing to start divvying out jobs to allow him to make his statement to the sergeant in blessed privacy and keep one wonderful but extremely curious girlfriend out of the way. "I'm going to have to be here for a while. Would you mind stopping in at the house and telling my parents what happened? They need to know about Honey and that she's on her way to the hospital. It'll sound better coming from you instead of from a police officer. Then you can head over to the hospital and find out how Honey is doing. I'll meet you there."

Brian touched his blackened eye gingerly, wondered how the Wheelers were going to respond when they saw it, and agreed slowly, "Yeah. That's not a problem, Jim. I'll head over there right now." He examined Jim closely, saw something on his best friend's face that made him not want to question the suddenness of the request, and started to walked away, towards his car. He only glanced back once to see that his sister wasn't following him. Shrugging a philosophical shoulder, he figured that she had at least two more vehicles and two willing drivers at her disposal before he started his car.

Trixie didn't make a move to follow her older brother, having no intentions of leaving the scene on her own. She stayed right where she was, determined to hear what Jim told the sergeant. She watched Brian carefully maneuver his way past the multitude of vehicles littering the small parking lot and then pull out onto Glen Road, which was once again a quiet, country lane and showed no signs of the recent and frenetic activities that had taken place on it. While she was immersed in watching her brother leave, she missed the long, telling look that flashed between Jim and Dan.

Understanding what he needed to do, Dan swallowed a fortifying breath of air and then tapped her on the shoulder, hoping that she wouldn't make a scene. Jim owed him big for what he had requested him to do. He would find out later why Jim didn't want his girlfriend nearby during his talk with the sergeant. "Hey, Trix," he said with forced ease. "Why don't we leave Jim here to deal with the police on his own? We should get to the hospital. Honey's going to need her friends soon." Not waiting for an answer or acknowledging the openmouthed look of shock she gifted him with, he grabbed her elbow but knew better than to start pulling her. "My truck's over there, out on the side of the road. The parking lot was too full for me to park in here."

Jim jumped in quickly when he recognized the bright flare of refusal traipse across her overly expressive face and correctly guessed that she was about to pull her elbow out of Dan's hand and give them each a good taste of her stubbornness. "Sounds good, Dan. I'll be along as soon as I finish with my report." Without looking her in the eye, without giving her a chance to voice her obvious refusal of his idea, he squeezed her hand and got away as quickly as he could. He strode purposefully towards the side of the building, well out of their hearing, and where the sergeant was impatiently waiting for him. Although he thought it was rather cowardly of him, he didn't look back to find out how she was taking it.

Trixie watched him go with narrowed eyes, feeling as if she had been outmaneuvered for the second time that day. First by Brian; now by her boyfriend. Tapping a flip-flop against the gravel of the driveway, she came to the conclusion that she didn't like it. Not one little bit. "Well," she humphed out, her hands on her hips, and a spark of unreleased fury dancing in the blue of her eyes. "There's nothing quite like being dismissed, is there?" Her lips pursed with annoyance. With the light of battle in her eyes, she took a step to follow him but was stopped Dan's tight grip on her elbow.

About to say something that would hopefully stop her from inserting herself where Jim clearly didn't want her to be, he caught the arrival of a familiar sedan speeding down the road and suppressed a frustrated groan. He whirled her around to show her the new arrival. "Just what we needed," he grumbled under his breath. There was only one thing to be grateful for. Pathetic, true, but at least he wouldn't have to stop her from following Jim anymore.

Mr. Lytell ripped into the parking lot and parked his sensible tan sedan behind a police cruiser amidst a cloud of dust and a whirl of gravel. A few cops watched him in disbelief, amazed that he had the gall to arrive at a crime scene in such a manner. Uncaring of the shocked glances coming his way, more than believing that he had the right to park in his parking lot any way he damned well pleased, Mr. Lytell threw back the door of his car. Mindful of his knee, he hobbled around to the back of his car and grabbed his crutches. Then his eyes scanned his store from behind his wire spectacles, narrowing into two tiny slits of anger when he noticed that the front door was now hanging at an odd angle. He couldn't miss the fact that the glass window had been smashed in or that the slim Venetian blinds were now hanging all askew instead of in the neat little rows that he preferred. Turning on his heels with as much grace as possible, his gaze leveled on the person whom he considered responsible for the mess that was now his store. With his lips pursed as if he had taken a sip of the bitterest lemonade ever made, an expression his face had worn too often in his life, he limped his way over to the remaining duo, his attention focused entirely on Trixie, and ignored the silent young man next to her. "Trixie Belden," he started without preamble before he even made it to them. His tone was scathing, biting and accusatory at the same time. "What have you done to my store?" It was both a question and a statement at the same time.

Momentarily forgetting Jim's highhandedness, her mouth fell open in astonishment. It would have been impossible to mistake the fury. He was all but vibrating with it. But she couldn't comprehend why it was all directed at her. Completely taken aback, she drew back and stammered out truthfully, "Noth…nothing. I didn't do anything to the store, Mr. Lytell. I wasn't even here when it started."

He didn't hear anything beyond her first stuttered word. "Of all the…That's not nothing!" he exploded irately, waving his arms wildly to encompass the police officers, cruisers, and the shattered front door and dropped one crutch in the process. He left it on the ground and eyed her with extreme distaste. "That's a mess, if you ask me! I don't even want to step foot in the store to see the extent of the damage that you are responsible for inside. I'm sure the devastation you've caused inside is quite enough."

"But I didn't do…" She tried to explain but he cut her off with a sharp wave of his hand.

He sailed on, ignoring her chance to defend herself, and added derisively, "Why I ever thought to hire you is behind me. I should have known better, with all the trouble you've managed to cause in this neck of the woods. I must have been momentarily out of my mind with pain from my knee. Well, I finally have my full mind back. You can most certainly consider yourself unemployed from here on out." His mouth almost turned up into a grin when her face paled at his words.

Stunned speechless, Dan recovered his voice first and aimed an angry glare in the direction of the store owner, the first sign that the man had managed to stir his slow-burning temper. "It wasn't her fault," he insisted fiercely, gritting his teeth and flexing his hand at his side at the same time. He couldn't hit a man old enough to be a grandfather, although what female would ever have wanted to procreate with him was well beyond him. He was grateful Miss Trask had seen the light and didn't give him so much more than a 'good day' when she ran into him now. While he simply couldn't hit him, his imagination was a good one. He could easily imagine how satisfying it would be. His darks eyes glinted with it. "I'd really watch what you say, Mr. Lytell, and wait until you get the full story from the police. Trixie is right." He stretched the truth the tiniest bit when he declared, "She just got here herself and doesn't know what happened in the store. She is not responsible for anything that happened in there."

He made a tsking sound, swatted away Dan's defense away as if it was a bothersome bee, and stared down his bespectacled nose at her for a long moment. Then he turned away, as if she didn't simply exist to him anymore, and ignored her. "You would take her side, Dan," he grouched under his breath. "But you can't fool me. I know who's to blame here, no matter what you say or what they say." He accepted the crutch that Trixie automatically handed him without a word of thanks and slipped it back under his armpit. "I'm going to find out exactly what went on here," he grouched and started the long walk back towards the police officers.

"Well, that was certainly pleasant," Trixie muttered sarcastically, feeling shell-shocked and embarrassed. She took a large breath of air but it didn't make her feel any better. Normally she would have smiled at the sight of Mr. Lytell obviously giving the two young police officers standing on the front porch of his store a hard time but she hadn't felt so badly herself.

"Don't listen to what he says," Dan ordered her, unsure of what else he could say to her in the aftermath of Hurricane Lytell. He shook his head, curling his own lip in disdain and decided then and there to never step foot in that store again. He wouldn't be alone. He would see to that. Mr. Lytell hadn't realized it yet but he had just alienated the majority of his customers with his caustic treatment of Trixie. "His opinion doesn't matter," he declared instead, hoping the force he used to spit the words out would puncture through the haze surrounding Trixie. He grabbed her elbow for the second time and began pulling her towards his truck. He almost chuckled at the resistance in her body. About three steps from the truck, she finally gave up and stopped dragging her heels.

"I don't know if I'm feeling so badly because he yelled at me and wouldn't give me a chance to defend myself or because I just lost my summer job through no fault of my own." She touched a hand to her face and felt the warmth of the flush on her cheeks. "I really don't like it when someone doesn't listen to me," she muttered under her breath. "And I really don't like it when someone doesn't treat me with respect." Mr. Lytell had done both, she realized with chagrin.

"Forget about him, Trix. He doesn't deserve an ounce of your energy," Dan repeated and opened the door for her. "He's just as crotchety and cantankerous as ever. He won't change. We both know that. Let's forget about him and let's concentrate on getting to the hospital right now. Honey needs you."

She saw the wisdom in his words. She wasn't going to change him or his opinion, no matter what she said to him, and pushed aside the mortification the store owner had gleefully dished her way. At least Dan had been the only one to witness it. "But we don't really not to hurry to the hospital. Not for a while, Dan," Trixie countered back and frowned in Jim's direction, remembering his casual dismissal a few minutes earlier. Pushing aside all thoughts of Mr. Lytell, she focused her remaining energy on her boyfriend. He had his back to her, was talking to Sergeant Molinson who was scrawling down notes furiously. She couldn't tell what the sergeant was thinking. He had that blank expression to his face that he always had when he was finding out the ins and outs of one of her homegrown mysteries. "But we won't be able to see her for at least an hour, if not more, Dan. Jim knows it. You know it. I know it." Her tone took an edge as she admitted, finally putting her thoughts into words, "Jim just doesn't want me to know something that happened in there."

Dan ushered her inside the cab of truck before she could dig her heels again, unsurprised at her tenacity and the return of her resiliency. "If that's the case, then I'm certain he has a good reason," he answered easily and calmly. "Jim will clue all of us in once the time is right. For now, Brian's gone to the Manor House to talk to the Wheelers, we've been dispatched to the hospital to wait on word about Honey, and Jim's been left behind to stay with the police."

She blew out a frustrated breath, used the running board to climb in, and absently buckled her seatbelt. It was a horrible feeling, not knowing what was going on, and one she didn't like at all. She grumbled disconsolately, toeing the floor of his truck and kicking aside an empty container that had once held his coffee, "I don't like missing out on something. And I really don't like not knowing what is going on." She hated feeling petulant but she couldn't help it.

As he started up the truck, he sent her an apologetic smile to take the bite out of his next words and turned the radio off. "Now you know what the rest of us generally feel like, Trix," he reminded her gently. "You are usually ten steps ahead of us at any given point on any given day. It's not that much fun to be on the other side of the fence, is it?"

Crossing her arms over her chest, she settled back, ready to take him on, and then decided that she couldn't, not without appearing to be the worst hypocrite ever. "No, it's not," she agreed glumly when her temper faded away, the ends of her lips pulling down and her shoulders slumping. "I much prefer knowing what is going on. I don't like being left in the dark."

He drove at a much slower rate of speed back into town and paid closer attention to traffic. Grinning to himself, he figured he was lucky to have made it to the store without causing an accident during his mad dash of about thirty minutes ago. "Relax," he said. "No one but Honey is aware of everything yet. All we know is that Sax Jenner tried to rob the store. Jim will tell us what he knows later, after we find out how Honey is doing."

She supposed he was right. But then a thought came to her. Her frown deepened when she wondered aloud, "Why do you think Jenner picked Mr. Lytell's store to rob, out of all places in Sleepyside? It doesn't take that much business in on any day. I would say that he may have, and this is being extremely generous, roughly two hundred dollars in the store." Tapping her short fingernail against the dark gray dashboard, she mused, letting her detective skills loose, "The store is small, too. While its remote location may make a thief think it's an okay spot to hit, it really shouldn't draw a thief to it in the first place. There's simply not enough of a draw to it." She paused a moment before questioning, "Don't you think, Dan?"

Dan was glad that his sunglasses blocked his eyes from her view. She could smell a lie a mile away with her instincts that could put a bloodhound to shame. At least he had a fighting chance if she couldn't see his eyes. "He must have needed the money." But the words didn't sound strong, not even to his own ears.

"But to steal money when he was only just put out on parole? Two weeks, isn't that what Sergeant Molinson said? It does not make any…" Then she had one of her famous light bulb moments. Her eyes widened, her face went white, and her hands started to shake. Forgetting that Dan needed to drive, she grabbed his arm, her fingers digging in. "Dan! He wasn't trying to rob the store, was he?"

Hoping that he hadn't been the one to give it away, Dan gritted his teeth at the fingers that were gripping him and did his best not to swerve off the road. "Ah, Trix? I kind of need my arms to drive," he remarked idly, sidestepping her question.

Trixie let go of his arm in disgust, taken out her frustrations on the only target available. "Gleeps, Dan! You're the one who wants to become a police officer! I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier. He wasn't after the money, was he? He couldn't have been. He must have figured out that I worked there. He wanted me." She waited a second for his response. When he stayed quiet and stared stonily ahead, she pressed her advantage. "That's why Jim didn't want me to listen in. That's why Jenner was willing to violate his parole. He was going after me and Honey got in the way because she took over my shift."

She was too smart, too adept at putting the pieces of any puzzle together. Dan sighed and answered, coming to a stop at the same red light that had halted his progress towards the store earlier, "I can't say for certain, Trix, because I honestly don't know. I wasn't in the store, either. You're merely supposing here."

She studied him closely, saw the way that he wouldn't look at her, and knew she was right. She could feel it in her bones. "But you think it, too. Don't you?"

Left with no other option, wishing that the town would fix the damn red light already and make it turn green much quicker than it was currently doing, Dan nodded curtly. "Yeah."

Trixie dropped back against the seat, her fingers idly playing with her seatbelt strap. Most of the time she enjoyed having her suspicions confirmed but not this time. Definitely not this time. "Damn, damn, damn," she mumbled under her breath as her frustration started to turn into something worse and much uglier. As far as she was concerned, guilt was one of the worst possible emotions to experience, especially when there wasn't a way for her to repair the situation. It threatened to swallow her whole.

Dan's eyebrows shot up. Swearing and Trixie didn't go hand-in-hand. She much preferred nonsense words like 'gleeps' and 'jeepers'. He honestly couldn't remember ever hearing a swear roll off of her lips before. "Trixie?" he inquired, concerned. When a car honked behind him, announcing that the longest red light in history had finally turned to go-ahead green, he jumped and pulled the truck forward.

Her ragged sigh answered him better than any words possible. "It's my fault, then, Dan," she responded in a tiny voice. "Honey took my shift. Honey got caught in the crossfire. She was hurt because of me. Because of me!"

He nearly stalled the truck in the middle of the intersection, earning yet another annoyed honk of the horn from the SUV behind him. Cursing a blue streak under his breath that had Trixie looking at him with a mixture of shock and reluctant admiration, he concentrated on the motion of working his gearshift and balancing it out with the clutch, finally getting the truck to behave responsibly, and declared strongly, "Don't go there, Trix. Don't."

"Too late," she shot back hotly. "I may as well have brought him back here myself." She was on the verge of reiterating that she was the one responsible for putting Honey in the hospital when Dan interrupted her, just as hotly, just as fiercely.

He tore off his sunglasses. They fell, unheeded, to the floor. "Trixie! Come on! You're not responsible for that jerk's actions. You didn't invite him in. You didn't give him a gun or push him into the store. You certainly didn't put Honey in the line of fire." His hands held the steering wheel tightly while he searched for the right words to stop the path of self-recrimination she was starting down. All he could come up with was, "You didn't do it, Trixie. You didn't do a thing. Jenner did it all, completely and totally, and on his own. Let it go. That's my advice to you."

Trixie didn't reply for a long moment. While her head certainly heard what Dan was saying, her heart couldn't help but feel as if it had been dealt a severe blow. "Easier said than down," she finally muttered under her breath.

He heard the lowly uttered words and blew out a breath before sharing, his own voice oddly even and devoid of any emotion, "Well, now you share another experience with Jim and me."

Puzzled, she leaned forward, deciding not to wallow in the pain of what she perceived as her involvement in Honey's injury. There would be time for that later, when she was all alone. Interest sparked, she cocked her head to the side, curious about what he had to say. "What do you mean, Dan?"

"All three of us now have something in common. You, me and Jim have had people from our past show up here in Sleepyside. Remember?" he added at her obvious bewilderment, hoping he had found the way to counteract her beliefs. "Using the logic you have recently treated me to in the past few minutes, then I would have been responsible for two acts of potential violence here. Luke showed up and hurt Mr. Maypenny when I first moved here. I know I don't have to remind you of his intentions with the Wheelers, right?" He saw her shudder in remembrance and then continued, "But that's not all, is there? Later on, my old gang showed up right at the time of Juliana's wedding and managed to make a lot of problems for everyone. They terrorized Bobby, kidnapped and tied up me and Hallie, and managed to steal from the Lynches. All my fault, right?"

"No!" burst out of her like a shot from a cannon. She had never considered how Dan would have felt over the two instances, basically because she had never aimed one ounce of blame towards him. None of them had. "But you weren't responsible for any of that, Dan," she proclaimed, absolutely appalled at the words coming from his mouth. Her blue eyes shot ire at his perceived view of himself. "No one ever blamed you…" Then her voice started to trail off.

Dan could see that he was starting to make headway. "Let's continue with our history lesson, shall we? I also brought up Jim, too. How about his stepfather? He came back. He caused a horrible car accident for the real Juliana, had his niece impersonate her when she lost her memory, and tried to break into your house. He managed to cause a lot of pain and mayhem, too. Is it Jim's fault?"

"Of course not!" she snapped back. Trixie stared out the window, lost in the memories of the times that Dan had brought up. Never, ever, in her young mind had she once thought to look into how those incidents could have affected Dan and Jim. Her eyebrows snapped together as the lovely homes inside the town of Sleepyside went past, with their charming fenced-in front yards and well-manicured lawns.

Dan waited until she had been able to look at the memories from a new perspective, instinctively knowing that he had blown through a good part of her resistance to his views. "Have you ever stopped to think how Jim and I felt about that?" he inquired a few minutes later as he pulled into the hospital parking lot and found a parking space. Cutting off the engine, he turned to her but didn't make a move to leave the truck. He met her gaze squarely. "Jim and I have talked about it before. We shared the same feelings, Trix, the same ones that are attacking you right now. Guilt. Responsibility. Horror that those god-awful people from our past had tried to touch the lives that we have here. Not only that, but they also attempted to hurt some of the people that we love and care about, right here in Sleepyside. It's not a fun feeling either, Trixie."

Her eyes grew to twice their normal size while she let his words sink in and she began to see both Dan and Jim in a different light. "Yes. You're right. I see it now." Her voice carried a tone of wonderment to it. She shivered with the strength of her agreement and then hesitatingly asked, "How…how did you deal with it?"

Dan picked up his sunglasses from the floor, twirled them around by the stem, and focused on a point far off in the distance. When he finally found his voice and the words that he hoped would help her, he said, "We talked about it a few times. Both me and Jim were extremely grateful for the fact that nothing terribly bad had really happened. Mr. Maypenny recovered, as did the real Juliana. Luke was arrested before he could break into the Manor House. Neither Hallie or I were hurt." He touched her hand and added the most important part. "We chose not to dwell on it. We couldn't. We just got on with our lives, with the help of some of the best friends in the entire world. Most importantly, we didn't let the guilt swallow us up." Maybe the guilt had won out, at least for a little while, but he wasn't going to share that with Trixie, inwardly praying that she would miss out on that particular sentiment. "Be thankful that everything worked out well. Honey is tougher than you think. She is going to be fine. Mr. Lytell's store may be in a bit of a shambles right now but it is still standing. Insurance will cover anything that needs fixing. And Sax Jenner is back where he belongs, in prison. Focus on the positives, Trix, not on the what could have beens."

While she considered his pearls of wisdom, her mouth pulled down at the corners. She didn't voice her thought that this one was completely different from their past. Luke had wanted to 'rescue' Dan and take him back to the streets. Dan's old gang hadn't come back for him; they had come to rob the members of the Country Club and then the wedding gifts from Juliana's wedding. Even Jim's stepfather main objective hadn't been to attack Jim. He had wanted Juliana's inheritance. In her case, she knew down to the depths of her soul that Jenner had been gunning for her because of her involvement in putting him away. It was a significant difference but she didn't bring it up. Dan would only attempt to wave her worries away. When she realized he wasn't going anywhere until she answered him, she said as frankly as she could, "I'll do my best, Dan."

She still couldn't let it completely go, not in the way Dan had suggested. After opening the door, she jumped down to the pavement and met him by the front of the truck. Her hand nervously traced a dent in the front bumper as she brought another fear to life. "Do you…do you think that's the only reason why Jim didn't want me to hear what had happened?"

"Of course," Dan answered swiftly while he wondered at the true motivation behind Jim's unspoken edict that his girlfriend should be removed from the situation before Sergeant Molinson started interviewing him. There was something more; there had to be. He made a mental note to ask his friend later, after all of their worries about Honey had been taken care of. "What else could there be? He's only trying to protect you, Trixie."

Her laugh sounded brittle. "It wouldn't be the first time, would it?" The sarcasm was nearly tangible.

"No, it wouldn't. With your penchant for finding trouble, it probably won't be the last, either." Dan motioned towards the building and started forward, with her shorter legs working hard to keep up with his longer strides. "You can take him to task on it later. Let's focus on Honey now."

They skirted around a parked car in the front entrance. Trixie smiled at the young couple who were doing their best to cautiously place the infant carrier in the base in the backseat of their minivan without waking their slumbering newborn. "What about Mr. Lytell? Do you think he's going to blame me for what happened at his store? Or do you think he'll forgive me?"

Dan thought about the cantankerous man and the way he had verbally attacked Trixie in the parking lot. His eyes slanted with remembered wrath. He couldn't wait to share that confrontation with the rest of their friends. Mr. Lytell had effectively managed to cut off his right hand, as it were. He wasn't going to have any business unless he apologized to Trixie and offered her the job back. He would see to it himself. "He's going to have to," he sneered, wishing that the man was in front of him right now. "Otherwise he's not going to have a business anymore. You do know that the residents of Glen Road are his main customers, right?"

"After working there for the past two weeks, yes," she answered wryly, pathetically grateful to be discussing something different and less heavy than her belief that she was responsible for the events of the day. "But I didn't need to be an employee at the store to know that. I've lived on Glen Road my entire life, you know."

Dan chuckled at her mocking tone, proud of the way she had moved beyond their other conversation. "And they are going to be pretty ticked off when they realize how he treated you. You are one of our favorite inhabitants, you know. If he doesn't apologize and hire you back, well, then, I guess he's not going to have much business, is he?"

Trixie brightened at the picture of Mr. Lytell, standing in his fully-stocked but completely-devoid-of-customers store, scratching his head with a befuddled expression on his face, and shot a pleased grin back at Dan. "Would people really boycott his store for me?"

"You got that right," he assured her strongly. He could see it already. There wouldn't be a soul who lived within ten miles of the store that would willingly enter it, not unless Mr. Lytell changed his tune and quickly. He still had no intentions of ever darkening its door again. "Believe me, he's going to have to eat some serious crow; otherwise, he's going to have to pack up and close up shop. No one that we know would ever go back inside that store otherwise."

Feeling a little better, doing her best to ignore the guilt that she couldn't quite overcome, she entered the hospital and followed the signs that brought the two of them to the outside of the emergency room. "If he were to offer me the job back, I wouldn't accept it, you know," she shared idly. "I don't want it anymore. In fact, I have a feeling that he even managed to cure my addiction for strawberry pop." She stopped in front of a watercolor painting of their town hall, with Hoppy the Grasshopper gleaming brightly at the top, and reiterated, "Yes. I wouldn't take it back. In fact, I personally never plan on going back into that store ever again."

"You have a little too much pride for that," Dan remarked knowingly.

She tossed a pleased smile over her shoulder. "Exactly." Then she grabbed his arm this time and brought him through the door to the surprisingly empty waiting room. "Let's check on Honey." After finding out very minimal information from the nurse at the front desk since they were not blood relatives, they found their seats on the uncomfortable chairs in a corner of the quiet room and looked towards the entrance, waiting for the rest of their group to come pouring through the doors at any given moment.


	14. Chapter 14

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Thirteen

From her position in the corner of the waiting room, Trixie had watched Honey's friends and family flow through the closed door and enter the somber room, either one at a time or in a small cluster. Feeling as if she was an outsider, sitting back and merely observing the action, she let her eyes travel over the group of people gathered within the room. She found her oldest brother first, the entire way across the room and in the farthest corner from her. She couldn't help but smirk. He had managed to put as much distance from her as he possibly could while still staying within the confines of the waiting room. His black eye didn't seem to bother him; he seemed to be almost ignorant of its presence on his handsome face as he participated in an intense and whispered conversation with Dan. They were each holding a Styrofoam cup of the brew that the hospital insisted was coffee in their hands. Trixie believed that Brian was filling Dan in on what he knew about the day's events. Whether their distance from her was intentional or not, she couldn't hazard a guess. But she huddled into the back of her chair and didn't make a move to join them. As far as she was concerned, the only person she wanted to clue her in was her boyfriend.

She focused next on the row of chairs positioned a few feet in front of her. Di's lovely face was shadowed with worry and fear while Mart sat next to her with an arm slung across her shoulder while Di held on tightly to his other hand, as if he the grip that she needed to hold onto reality. He idly played with the strands of her long, dark hair but was unnaturally silent. They both were. They seemed to find comfort in the other's presence and shared small, cautious smiles ever now and then. Trixie felt a spark of envy at the way they were calming each other with their simple touches and looks. She sent a wistful glance at the seat next to her and wished it was full. But it wasn't. It was empty.

Then there were the Wheelers. They had been the first people to push their way through the door after Trixie and Dan, both looking worried and upset, and had hurried right over to the two of them for more information, which, unfortunately, neither Bob-White had been able to supply. Their emotions hadn't evened out as the time continued to pass without a word from the doctor. Trixie immediately noted how Matthew Wheeler was having trouble keeping his big body still and under control. He got up and went over to the front desk for what had to be the third time in the past fifteen minutes to request news about his daughter's condition. When he received the same answer from the harassed-looking nurse, he pivoted on his heels with an expression on his face that had made countless employees underneath him quiver in their smart, sensible shoes and stalked back to his wife where he sat down for one full minute before he sprung up from his seat again and stared pacing the room. Occasionally, he muttered unintelligible strings of words under his breath.

Madeleine Wheeler didn't try to stop her husband. She was perched on the edge of her seat, one ankle elegantly crossed over the other, and her hands in her lap. Wearing a beautiful sage green linen dress with matching shoes and white pearls encircling her neck and dotting her ears, she looked the epitome of a society matron who was presiding over a fancy garden party for her country club associates instead of spending an early Saturday evening at the local hospital. But her hands told the true story. She couldn't keep them still. She alternated between wringing them together and playing with the tasteful yet expensive rings on her fingers, showing the agitation that was blossoming within her, while she slowly chewed off what was left of her lipstick, a habit that she had passed on to her daughter.

With the exception of a small family taking up another row of chairs, the Bob-Whites and the Wheelers rounded out the assembly in the room. Trixie finished studying the small group again, unable to add anything different to her thoughts, and glanced down at the worn floor tiles. She absently traced the pattern with the toe of her flip-flop, following the faded blue of the diamond that was in the middle of tile. First once, then twice, then three times. It helped keep her busy, helped her concentrate on something besides the one person who had not walked through the doors of the waiting room. Every time the door opened she expected to see his familiar face. So far, disappointment had reigned supreme every time. There was still no sign of Jim Frayne.

The inactivity was getting to her. The muted atmosphere within the room didn't help matters. Her fingers began to drum along the armrest of the chair while she wondered what could be keeping Jim so long. It wasn't hard to pull out the last memory she had of him. He had been talking with Sergeant Molinson outside of the store. The good sergeant must have needed an extremely detailed account of the happening, she mused quietly. She should know. She had been grilled by him over and over during the course of their rather interesting 'working' relationship through the years. A frown twisted its way across her lips. She couldn't help but wish that he was already here. It was beyond awful for her that he wasn't yet. She needed him; for support, for help, for chasing away any lingering fears that something dreadful may have truly happened to Honey. Most of all, she needed him to tell her that everything was going to be all right. She really wouldn't believe it until she had him right next to her. Feeling the uncomfortable prick of salty tears behind her eyes, she vowed to herself not to let one fall and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, only opening them when she was relatively certain that she had them under control.

Deciding that she wasn't going to get anywhere if she allowed herself to be pulled under the tumultuous emotions that were threatening to swamp her, she concentrated on putting her mind on something more helpful and beneficial. Why he hadn't allowed her to stay with him? Why he had pushed her off on Dan and sent her to the hospital? The questions mocked her; their answers were not forthcoming. Her new train of thought succeeded in getting rid of the tears and gave her something, if not more constructive, at least more interesting to ponder while the seconds ticked away. She flopped back against the seat, stifled a groan, and went back to square one, her mind working as furiously as it possibly could. But it met the same brick wall every time. She couldn't come up with anything plausible, other than the fact that Jim didn't want her to know that Jenner had been expecting her in the store.

"All right, Trixie," she mumbled lowly so no one else could hear her. "Take a step back and try it again." Letting her mind loose, she tried to distance her emotions from the scene and started to sequence the events together as she knew them to be. She began marking off the points that she already knew. Robbing Mr. Lytell's store hadn't been Sax Jenner's main objective. He had clearly intended for her to be inside, for her to be his victim, not Honey. The switch in her shift had worked to fool him and had put Honey in her place. She closed her eyes to block out the glare of the overhead fluorescent lighting and tried to envision the events as they must have happened in her mind. Drawing on her knowledge of the locked front door, as well as the open sign that had been flipped over to closed, it wasn't hard for her to decipher that Jenner must have employed those diversionary tactics to drive away any potential customers as a deterrent for entering the store while he was inside. She correctly guessed that Jim must have stopped in to visit Honey some time after Jenner had entered the store and then had broken in through the back window after placing the call for help on his cell phone. But she couldn't come up with anything that had happened inside that damn store, certainly not anything that would offer a credible reason for why Jim would have wanted her away from his interview with the sergeant. She absolutely despised being in the dark. Left with the only recourse available to her, she had to reluctantly admit that Jim was the only one who would be able to answer her. Her infamous impatience began to eat away at her while her imagination let her down.

After another intensely long ten minutes had passed where there was only the sound of stilted, hushed conversations that Trixie chose not to participate in, Dr. Ferris pushed through the actual entrance to emergency room and hurried his way over to the small group. Breaking hospital procedure without a qualm, more than certain that Honey's family and friends wanted to hear about her as soon as they could, he gestured for them to meet him near the front desk, away from the other occupants in the room. The group obeyed him at once. People left their chairs and crowded in on him eagerly. All faces carried various emotions ranging from relief that they were about to hear about Honey to fright for her prognosis to gratitude that the wait was finally over.

The large smile on the doctor's face put everyone's immediate fears to rest the second they were gathered around him. "Hello, all!" Dr. Ferris broke out cheerfully. "It's good to know that my patient has so many people that care about her, not that I had expected anything less. She's anxious to see all of you."

The Bob-Whites made a solid wall behind the Wheelers, giving her parents a respectful distance. Hanging back from the rest, Trixie was the only one who heard the swishing sound of the door as it opened. She couldn't help but turn to see who it was. Her gasp of relief wasn't heard by anyone as Jim strode swiftly to join the group. Her heart finally felt like it could start beating again. He quickly took his usual spot next to Trixie and shared a small smile with her. She returned the smile with a hesitant one of her own that had him staring back at her in unveiled surprise before they had to give the doctor their undivided attention.

"Honey is doing fine. She's tired and resting right now," Dr. Ferris began after acknowledging the late arrival with a curt nod. "Other than the fact that she needed to have her cut glued together on her temple and is suffering from a concussion, she will be perfectly fine. Sore, a little bruised, and, as I said before, definitely tired." The collective sigh of relief from the large group made his grin widen with appreciation. Not all of his patients had the amount of support that one Madeleine G. Wheeler managed to bring about. "We're going to keep her here overnight, of course, simply for precautionary purposes. As long as her vitals remain normal and we don't see anything unusual, I don't see any reason why she won't be able to be discharged from the hospital tomorrow."

Dr. Ferris held up his hand when he felt the wave of questions that were about to be blasted in his direction from the relieved and suddenly jubilant group in front of him and explained swiftly, "You don't even need to ask me. She has been admitted into room 234 and is able to have visitors. Normally the hospital only allows one visitor in at a time. Since I highly doubt if this group will be able to adhere to that particular rule, I'm willing to break protocol and let two people in at a time to see her, with her parents' permission, of course," he was sure to add. Both the Wheelers nodded their assent, more than relieved to hear that their little girl was going to be fine. "Normal visiting hours will have to be followed, though, which means no visitors in her room past eight o'clock this evening. The visits shouldn't last that long, either. Honey does need her sleep."

The mixture of awe, relief, and gratitude on Matthew Wheeler's face was incongruous with the unfaltering and intimidating image that the business world had of him. "Thank you, Dr. Ferris. We're all very relieved to hear your report and are extremely appreciative of the help you gave my daughter." He tapped the doctor on the shoulder and suggested, "I do have a few questions for you, though. I'm certain that Madeleine does, too." He looked in her direction for her confirmation, which she gave with a regal nod of her head.

Dr. Ferris hadn't expected anything less from the parents. He almost expected the entire cluster to join them when he held his arm out and invited them, "Follow me."

As the Wheelers moved to converse more with Dr. Ferris, Trixie released the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding during the doctor's report. "Thank goodness," she murmured quietly. Relief speared through her, helping to fight some of her own guilt over the entire escapade, while she felt a spark of normalcy start to return to her. After going through two hours were it felt like everything was starting to change, she was grateful to have things moving in a more natural and normal direction.

"You can say that again," Mart remarked sincerely, forgetting to use his extensive vocabulary with the seriousness of the moment. He shook his head and then studied the four who had firsthand knowledge of the event that had transpired, which was more than he could say for himself and his girlfriend. "Now that we know Honey is going to be all right, I think it's time that Di and I bring something up to the rest of you."

Di fluttered her violet eyes, in complete agreement with Mart. They had both been unable to decide why they were the last to know that Honey was in the hospital or, more importantly, why it had taken so long for someone to inform them what had happened to her. "I agree, Mart." She glanced at each of them herself, a little confused and a lot hurt, and added reproachfully, "Why on earth did it take forever for one of you to get in touch with us and tell us what had happened at the store? Mart and I haven't been able to figure it out."

Dan and Trixie exchanged sheepish looks, understanding immediately that they were the ones who had had the quickest opportunity to call the other two Bob-Whites during their ride to the hospital. Unfortunately, neither had thought to include the remaining Bob-Whites. They had been wrapped up in their own, intense conversation and hadn't considered calling anyone. It had slipped their minds. "I forgot my cell phone at home in our hurry to get to the store," Trixie mumbled under her breath. It took an effort but she made herself look into the puzzled eyes of her brother and her friend. "I couldn't have called you from it. I'm sorry, Mart, Di. I didn't mean to overlook you." It was the truth. She was sincerely sorry although she knew she could have used Dan's cell, which had been sitting out in the open during the entire ride to the hospital in its holder on the dashboard of his truck.

Dan muttered something garbled and incoherent, unable to come up with any excuse to offer his friends. He didn't have a good reason. He only had the truth which he didn't want to share in front of their group. He somehow knew that Trixie wouldn't appreciate having their talk laid out in the open for the others. It had been a private moment, one that he hoped would help her come to grips with what had happened. Left with no other option, he settled for a small shrug and no clear answer instead.

Two down and neither offered a truly acceptable reason. Mart and Di stared at Jim next. He held up his hands and explained swiftly, "Hey, I only finished my statement with Sergeant Molinson about fifteen minutes ago. I would have called both of you but he had a ton of questions for me to answer. I didn't have the opportunity." Plus they had been interrupted by one of the young officers on the force who had needed the sergeant to handle one upset store owner. Jim doubted if he would ever forget the look of ire on Mr. Lytell's face that had twisted his normally sour expression into something much different and even more acerbic or the way he had been spouting off about curly-haired employees, broken front doors, and the flaws of the parole system in general. He hadn't been pleasant. It had taken Sergeant Molinson a good twenty minutes to calm him down before he was able to come back to Jim. Then he recalled the message the sergeant had asked him to relay at the end of his interview. He stared over at Brian and informed him, "You have to stop by the police station and add your two cents in, too. Sergeant Molinson said he wants to hear your version about what happened inside the store. It's not imperative, though. You can stop in anytime within the next day or two."

"I'll do that," Brian agreed, willing to do anything to help keep the man who had hurt Honey behind bars, before he turned back to Mart and Di. "It took me awhile to call you because I stopped in at the Manor House first to tell the Wheelers. I made the calls to you as soon as I was on my way to the hospital."

Di forgave all with an airy wave of her hands and her beautiful smile. The most important thing was that Honey was all right. "Let's put it behind us, then. Right, Mart? I, for one, can't wait to see Honey. I know I'm not the only one!" She threaded her arm through Mart's and pulled him forward. "Come on, Bob-Whites! Let's head over to the elevators. Now that Dr. Ferris has given us permission to see her, we need to get up there as fast as we can. I want to see for myself that Honey is really okay!"

Trixie followed the others across the waiting room but her curiosity wouldn't allow her to take another step further. Reaching out, she put a tentative arm on Jim's shoulder and halted his progress. "Jim?" she inquired softly when he looked down at her, an inscrutable expression on his face. She didn't need to say anything else. The unspoken questions were written clearly across her overly expressive face.

He gave a curt shake of her head, instinctively knowing what she wanted to ask him, and bit back a long sigh. It wasn't the time or place to get into what she wanted to get into. "Trixie," he began in a forceful tone, wanting to curtail the questions that she was dying to have answered before she even asked them. He certainly didn't have any intentions of telling her all.

"Please, Jim. I can't wait another minute. I need to know what happened." Her eyes implored him better than her words and sliced through his resolve.

He couldn't outmaneuver her twice in one day. The effects of the first time were clear in the wariness of her blue eyes which conflicted dramatically with the stubborn set of her chin. He hated reading the hurt that she tried but couldn't hide. He was too aware of her, knew her way too well. There wasn't much that she could hide from him. Jim heaved a sigh before steering her back towards a quiet corner of the room, far away from the others in the room. His parents left the room right after their friends. He sent them an absent wave and waited until they had left. "I know what you're thinking, Trixie. This isn't the best place for all your questions," he whispered hurriedly to her. He was quick to say, "I'm not trying to brush you off or anything like that. There are a few too many people in here for the ones you really want to ask me. There's also the fact that we need to get up to see Honey."

Trixie contemplated his answer and accepted it as graciously as she could because, unfortunately, he was already 'brushing her off' in spite of the fact that he believed he wasn't. She chose not to dwell on her hurt feelings. As he had said, it wasn't the place for it. She had enough logical to recognize the truth in it. "That's fair enough, Jim" she replied, glad that he already knew what she wanted to ask him. But her eyes slitted when the unbidden thought came to her that he may not willingly tell her all. "We'll keep my most important questions for later, when we're alone. I'll settle for my next one, then. It _can_ be answered here, you know." She pushed aside a wayward curl and asked, "What took you so long to get here, Jim? You must have been with the sergeant for at least an hour. That's unusual in itself. Believe me, I should know. I've spent plenty of times answering his questions over the years."

He reached out and gave the bothersome curl a gentle tug, unsure whether the motion was meant to soothe him or her. The pang of remorse he felt at forcing her away from the crime scene shone briefly in his eyes. He answered her question without hesitation. "It shouldn't have taken as long as it did. I had just started telling Sergeant Molinson what I had seen and heard when he was called away by another police officer." Part of it had been strangely humorous. If it had not been for his injured knee, Jim didn't have any doubts that Mr. Lytell would have jumped up and down in an irate rage. Sucking in a deep breath, unsure how she was going to take it, he shared haltingly, "It turns out Mr. Lytell showed up on the scene. The other officers were having some trouble dealing with him. As you can imagine, he was not very happy about what had happened at his store." He chose his words carefully and didn't add that it had taken Sergeant Molinson a good ten minutes to make the store owner understand that one Trixie Belden hadn't had a thing to do with the robbery attempt in his store.

"Tell me about it," Trixie grumbled darkly, her face heating with the memory of how her former employer had treated her. She refused to shudder and tossed her head back proudly. "He came tearing into the parking lot right after you went with Molinson to give your report. He came right over to me when he first got to the store. As you just said, he wasn't happy. It wasn't a pleasant few minutes, let me tell you." She took a deep breath to help steadier herself before she admitted, "He blamed me, Jim. He thinks it's all my fault. Because of that, he fired me on the spot."

His green eyes started to glow dangerously with righteous indignation on her behalf. "That's not right," came out in a soft voice she had rarely ever heard cross his lips before. He wished he had known about that when he had been at the store. He would have been more than happy to have forced Mr. Lytell to see the truth of the situation. "I can't believe he did that."

"Dan is planning on organizing a boycott," Trixie supplied with a little laugh, surprised that she could actually produce the sound. It wasn't too hard and made her believe that everything within her world soon had almost been righted. Her voice became stronger and more self-assured when she explained, "Unless he apologizes to me and offers me my job back, of course."

"You may accept an apology but you would never accept your job back," Jim answered swiftly. His hand flexed at his side. He didn't like the fact that he hadn't been there to support her when she had needed him. Since there was nothing else he could do, he pulled her into a warm embrace and murmured into her ear, "Well, you can count on me. I'll be glad to sign up for Dan's boycott. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you with him. I wish I had been." She had said it hadn't been 'pleasant'. Jim had feeling that the confrontation had been downright ugly.

It felt amazingly good to be in his strong arms again. Trixie hadn't realized until that moment how much she had needed him to hug her. It helped the stress of the afternoon start to dissipate. Sighing gratefully, she settled against his chest, uncaring of the other sets of eyes in the room, and breathed in the understated scent of his cologne. "Don't worry about it, Jim. You can make it up to me later, when you answer my other questions," she assured him impishly.

He couldn't believe it but he actually chuckled. Leave it to Trixie to make him want to laugh in the waiting room at the hospital. "Agreed."

"I don't suppose there's anything I could say or do to try and convince you to answer anything else right now, could I?" Blue eyes peeped up at him.

"Not here, Trix, and not now," he responded while he wondered what her attempts would be to get him to talk. Running a hand up and down her back, he began to lead her towards the exit. "We'll talk about it later. I promise."

She pursed her lips, about to try and cajole it out of him again, when a shrill siren from another ambulance cut through the quiet of the hospital, announcing the arrival of yet another patient. It reminded her exactly where they were and who they needed to see. Although it went against her very nature, she didn't have any other option. "I give up," she admitted slowly and with some reluctance. "I'm going to hold you to that promise, though. I want to know what happened today." She paused a minute before she retracted what she had said and declared, "Let me rephrase that. I want to know _everything_ that happened today." Her eyes practically bored a hole through him while she tried to impress on him the strength of her words.

There was no way in hell he was going to tell her _everything_ but Jim didn't voice that particular sentiment to her. He would tell her enough but there was simply no way he would be able to share with her what Jenner had planned for her or for his sister. He neatly sidestepped her remark and announced instead, "Now you know why I was late. It took Sergeant Molinson a while to calm down Mr. Lytell. After that, we had to start all over again with my interview. I think the sergeant wanted to be certain that my mind was fresh and that he didn't miss any of the important details."

"Mr. Lytell must have caused some scene, then," Trixie noted under her breath. It wasn't too hard to picture an upset Mr. Lytell. She had witnessed that part of his personality more than once. A good many times it had been directed at her. Never with the same amount of ferocity or almost hatred as it had been today but she wasn't going to let him affect her anymore.

"He did." They stopped in front of the elevators and waited for the next available one to come. "Unlike Brian, I don't need to go to the police station, though. I was able to give Sergeant Molinson everything that he needed to know for his report. Anything Brian adds will only help support what I gave him." Then he thought of something that he doubted if Trixie was aware of yet. Dr. Ferris hadn't mentioned it during his talk with them earlier. He touched her shoulder and stopped her from entering the elevator that had opened with a musical ding. "Hey, Trix? He did tell me something that I think you should know."

Trixie stepped back into the hallway while the door closed without anyone in it. "What's that, Jim?" She inclined her head to the side in what he considered her 'curious' pose. "What is something else that I don't know yet?" Even she flinched at the bitter words that came out of her mouth.

He overlooked her choice of words, figuring he deserved them for refusing to satisfy her overwhelming curiosity. "He tried to get a few answers out of Honey before she was loaded into the ambulance." Jim's face took on a far-away look when he remembered how small and fragile his sister had seemed to him then. He cleared his voice and then shared, "She couldn't tell him, Trixie. She couldn't answer one question about Sax Jenner. She didn't remember a single thing that had happened in the store between the two of them."

"Oh," burst out of Trixie. She covered her mouth with a shaking hand. "Oh, my! I didn't know that. Poor Honey."

"Dr. Ferris didn't bring it up but it would probably be best if we didn't mention anything about today to her." Jim pushed the up button for the second time and nodded his head sagely. "At least, not until she's home and healed. She may remember it on her own or she may be lucky and never be able to recall it at all." If he had his choice, he wouldn't mind having selective amnesia himself. He didn't want to remember any part of the terrifying moments in the store, even though it had turned out relatively all right in the end.

Automatically, she entered the elevator with him, his words ringing through her mind. "Lucky?" she repeated, incredulous. How could a blocked-out memory be termed 'lucky'? "Why would that make her lucky?" The closing of the door, the gentle rising of the elevator didn't penetrate. She couldn't tear her eyes off of him. With her hands on her hips, she waited for his answer, almost daring him to attempt to avoid it.

He uttered an inward groan at his poor choice of words. "Another time, Trix," he insisted instead and dropped his gaze from hers. He turned to face the closed door and reminded her, "Remember?"

"Yes," she replied grudgingly. She wouldn't be able to get anything else out of him. Not yet. Not until they were in what he perceived the right time and place. She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her shorts. Her recent serene feeling that everything was on its way back to the normalcy that she craved began to evaporate. Risking a glance in his direction, she couldn't figure out what he wasn't telling her. It wasn't like him. While she certainly understood his reasoning for not wanting to tell her now, even though she really didn't want to understand or even agree with him, she couldn't help but feel unsettled, uncertain and tense. What didn't he want her to know?


	15. Chapter 15

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Fourteen

When the bell announced their arrival seconds before the door opened, a subdued Trixie and Jim alighted and followed the signs that would lead them to Room 234 and Honey. Both were silent and expressionless. Trixie was grappling with her nearly insatiable need to know everything right then and there with the overwhelming respect and love that she had for her boyfriend. She sent him a few sidelong glances during their trek but didn't make a move to break the silence that existed between them. It wasn't a frosty silence or even a harsh one. She eventually put her finger on it and inwardly described it as unnatural. An unnatural silence. She almost wished it was tense instead. She had years of experience on how to handle that one; usually with her quick temper that flared up, exploded, and then blew over, just as swiftly as it had come over her. But unnatural? She didn't have a clue on what to do or say next. Because of that, she settled for the old stand by and followed along, which was all she seemed capable of doing, anyway. It was difficult to match his longer strides with her shorter ones but Trixie managed to do it. They went past the bustling nurse's station, which was manned by three nurses, and then down a short hallway before rounding a corner that brought them to the familiar group waiting by the door. As they rushed to the others, it didn't escape her notice that the Wheelers were noticeably missing from their friends. "Any news?" she asked the second they joined them.

Brian shook his head. "Not yet. Your parents went in a few minutes ago, Jim. They said that they won't be too long."

"I think they know that we're all anxious to see Honey," Di supplied. Her eyes seemed more luminous than normal. She hastily swiped at the tears that were threatening to spill over at any moment.

Jim answered Di with a short nod. He glanced at the door, thought about the family that had become his own through a wonderful and unexpected twist of fate during one of the lowest points of his life, and felt exceedingly thankful. But it still ate away at him that he hadn't been able to prevent Honey from coming to the hospital in the first place. The minutes he had spent hiding in the back room of the store flashed through his mind while he contemplated if there was anything that he could have done differently. Unfortunately, nothing came to mind. Shoulders slumped, he thought about the next item to be crossed off on his agenda for the evening. He had to talk to his parents. They had to know. The sudden grim look to his eyes showed how little he was looking forward to that.

Unaware of Jim's current train of thought, Trixie responded truthfully, "Yes, Di. I can't wait to get in to see Honey, either. It seems like we waited downstairs for just about ever." Needing something to look at besides Jim's profile, which only seemed to stir up more questions that he was frustratingly not going to answer at the moment, she stared at the closed door, too.

"Can you imagine how Honey must have felt?" Mart wondered aloud, once again forgetting to showcase his extensive vocabulary. "If it felt like forever to us down there in the waiting room, it must have been an even longer ordeal for her."

Dan didn't offer any words while Di and Brian responded to Mart. He studied their co-presidents on the sly; first Trixie, then Jim. It wasn't hard to place the worry and concern on their faces. He was certain that it was reflected on all of them. None of them would truly believe that Honey was going to be fine until they were able to see her. But he couldn't help but notice that Trixie seemed oddly quiet, like the effervescent part of her had been momentarily extinguished, while Jim took the 'oddly quiet' description to a whole other realm. He didn't partake in any of the conversation going around, was staring intently at the closed door, and almost acted more like an observer than an integral member of their group. Dan glanced around but neither Di, Mart or Brian seemed to be aware that something was a little off with the two. He wasn't surprised. He was the only one with inside information. With a roll of his shoulders, he figured the two were simply going to have to talk it out at some point.

"It's nice of Dr. Ferris to break the rules and let two of us in at once," Di announced into the sudden quiet that surrounded the six. It was the only thing she could come up with to stir up conversation. Everyone was so solemn and serious. She still wasn't completely sure what had happened within the confines of the little store but, when she saw the effects of it vividly imprinted on Jim's and Brian's faces, she decided she didn't really want to know. Ignorance was bliss, as far as she was concerned. But when she caught a look at the unusual expression on Trixie's face, she realized her friend had a completely different view on the situation than she did. Searching for something to say to break the silence, she inquired, "How are we going to divide up after Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler come out?"

Brian was itching to be the next one in but he hid his agitation behind his normally calm exterior. Only the darkening of his eyes and the way he couldn't keep his right hand still gave proof to how he was really feeling. "Dividing up is the easy part. Me and Dan, you and Mart, Jim and Trixie," he answered Di easily, taking charge of the group when neither of their co-presidents offered a suggestion. "That'll be the groups, all right, everyone?" He didn't expect any objections, not when he had paired up the two dating couples and put the two lone wolves together.

"And the order," Jim agreed hastily, surprising more than a few people. Everyone had taken it for granted that he and Trixie would be the next ones inside despite the fact that they were the last ones to arrive. He was Honey's brother and no one there could discount the fact that Honey and Trixie carried an extra special bond that went beyond mere friendship. He held out his hands and offered a hurried explanation, "I haven't had a chance to talk to my parents yet since I was detained by the sergeant. I need to do speak with them when they finish up inside." He didn't share exactly what he needed to talk to them about and, surprisingly, not one person in their normally inquisitive group called him on it. He faced Trixie for her belated input. "Is that all right with you? You don't mind waiting for me to get back to visit Honey?"

She was getting reluctantly good at waiting, wryly deciding that Jim must be trying to get her to practice patience with all of the waiting he was suddenly requesting her to do. But she didn't mind overly much this time, not when she wanted to see Honey with her boyfriend at her side. "It's fine, Jim. I can wait for you." She felt her eyebrows snap together and stared into his handsome face, speculating what he needed to say to his parents. She had a pretty good guess, figured that he would share more of the happenings within the store than the Wheelers already knew about, and felt a small sting of jealousy that he wasn't willing to tell her about it yet. But a crowded hospital hallway didn't seem like the best place to bring light to her suspicions or attempt to force him to tell her again. Besides, she had his promise to go over everything at a later time. And she believed in his promises. Once Jim gave his word, he always upheld it, no matter what, so she grudgingly let it go for the moment although she wished she could tell what was swimming behind the turbulent green of his eyes.

Jim wondered at her quick acquiescence but didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth. From the way she had stood, unbelievably quiet and still, through the seemingly endless elevator ride, which was an amazing feat in itself since they had only traveled the short distance from the first floor to the second, he had thought she would have resisted going in last to visit Honey. He was remarkably relieved that she hadn't questioned his need to see his parents. Placing an absent hand on the small of her back, he returned his attention back to the closed door, almost as if he could will his parents to come out, and prepared to tell them more of what had transpired in the store than the bare minimum that Brian had been able to tell them. To his knowledge, they only knew that Honey had been caught in the crossfire of a robbery. He didn't think that they would take the news well that a robbery hadn't been the main objective, that all of the Bob-Whites had worked together to put the perpetrator back into prison a few years ago, and that Jenner had really wanted to settle a score with Trixie. His grip tightened reflexively on her waist while he debated whether or not to tell them everything. They weren't going to be thrilled with his news. In fact, they were going to be more horrified than they were now. He began to mentally calculate the best way of bringing it up to them.

Trixie felt the increase of his touch, found an enjoyment in it that had been a vital yet missing part of her during the long day, and tossed a curious look over her shoulder. This time she had no trouble understanding the emotion flashing in his eyes. Something had him worried. Biting her bottom lip to keep from asking, once again keeping her impulsivity and curiosity in check, she slipped a cautious hand around his waist to offer the only comfort she could. He held her even tighter in response, the only way he could help put her own fears to rest. Relief began to pour over and around her. He needed her, as much as she needed him. She felt her sigh of contentment all the way to her toes.

They waited. Again. Brian used the wall to hold him up, with his self-appointed partner standing right next to him. Mart and Di stood nearby, once again with their arms wrapped around each other and with whispered words while they waited for their turn. From her spot besides to Jim, Trixie searched their beloved faces. She couldn't ever remember the Bob-Whites being so silent and serious before, for such an extended period of time, but then it was unusual to have one of their members really and truly hurt. When it was Honey, the one she considered to be the heart of their group, she realized that their response was more than fitting. It was the only possible course of action. Caught up in her thoughts, she actually jumped and dropped her arm from Jim when the door finally opened and a teary-eyed Madeleine Wheeler came through. Trixie watched her daintily dab away the tears with a beautiful silk handkerchief. Matthew came through next, his face much happier and more relaxed than it had been before. He aimed a wide smile at all of the Bob-Whites.

Jim gave Trixie an apologetic smile and immediately went to them. "How is she?" were the first words out of his mouth while he hooked his thumbs into the loops of his shorts.

Matthew placed a steadying arm at his wife's waist. He could still feel the tension humming through her body and doubted if she would be able to truly relax until their daughter was back home, where she belonged. "Honey is wonderful," he answered jovially, wanting to set all of them at ease. "In fact, she is looking forward to her next set of visitors. She wants to see all of you as soon as you can possibly get in there."

Jim heard the collective sigh from his friends behind him and watched Brian move faster than he had ever seen him move before. With competence and a stealth that was astonishing to witness, Brian had the door opened and had slipped inside before Jim could get the words out to ask his parents to come with him. He couldn't miss the snickering Dan who followed Brian on his heels and almost chuckled himself. It was rather amusing, Jim thought to himself, and mentally calculated how long it would be before there was another couple in the Bob-Whites. When he realized that his father was looking at him expectantly for a response, he flushed slightly and said, "That's great, Dad. We remembered what Dr. Ferris told us downstairs. Only two at a time. Brian and Dan already went in. Mart and Di are next. Trix and I are going to be last." He could feel that he was rambling and drew in deeply to regain his composure before suggesting, "While everyone else is visiting Honey, why don't we head to the waiting room for a while?"

"Why would we need to do that?" Madeleine questioned, her aristocratic features drawn back into tiny lines of confusion. She carefully folded up her handkerchief, placed it back inside her designer purse and closed it with a smart snap.

Even though the interested people watching them consisted of two of his friends and his girlfriend, people that he more than loved and trusted, he didn't allow his answer to satisfy anyone's curiosity. "Come with me. There are a few things I'd like to talk to you about." He began guiding them away from the remains of their group and down the hall, towards the waiting room around the opposite corner.

Too intent on the conversation between Jim and his parents, Trixie hadn't noticed that Brian and Dan had already gone into the room, leaving their number down to three. She was stunned to find herself with only Mart and Di. "I wonder what he's telling them," she mumbled under her breath, her foot beating out an erratic tattoo on the floor. She ached to follow them but she knew better. It wasn't her place.

Mart rolled his eyes at what he considered to be her blatant obtuseness. "It's not that hard to figure out, Trix. Brian told us on the elevator ride up that Jim saw most of the action inside the store. You should know that since you were there, too." He stared in the direction the small family had gone and guessed correctly, "He's probably intending to give his parents an extremely censored version of what happened."

"Yes. I would think so, too," Di agreed while brushing back a strand of her silky black hair. She turned to her friend and added, "It's probably exactly what he told you downstairs, Trixie. I'm certain Jim gave you a very in-depth account while the rest of us made it upstairs and you two stayed behind to talk. You have to be the first person out of the rest of us to know what happened." A shiver coursed through her body while she blocked out the possible images. She didn't retain any jealousy over being left out. She didn't want to know what had happened. "Seriously, I don't mind if you want to keep it to yourself. I would rather not know."

Trixie made a low, non-committal sound that the two mistook for agreement, refusing to share that she didn't know anything more than what the rest of them did. She wouldn't admit it, especially not to her one brother whose main purpose in life seemed to be finding new and inventive ways to tease her unmercifully. She wasn't about to give him fodder. As she watched the Wheelers and Jim go around the corner and disappear from her line of sight, she couldn't help but be swamped by disappointment yet again. It was the right time and place for them to find out, she realized solemnly, her forehead wrinkling. Why couldn't it be for her?

Mart leaned against the wall, an arm around Di's slim shoulder, and began carrying on a quiet, hushed conversation when he saw the sparkle of tears return her pretty violet eyes, unaware of the myriad of thoughts traipsing through his sister's mind. Feeling as if she was riding the worst possible roller-coaster ever created, Trixie tried her best to ignore her thoughts and faced the couple, the words she had intended to say frozen on her lips. They looked so sweet together, like a perfect fit. Suddenly feeling like a third wheel, she hastily excused herself. "I'll be back in a few minutes," she announced, unaware if the two heard her or not. A wave of farewell and then she was striding purposefully in the opposite direction she had arrived, willingly retracing the footsteps of the Wheelers and Jim.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, she wasn't sure which, they were nowhere in sight. After she made it past the corner, neatly sidestepped a nurse, a doctor, and two visitors, she glanced around. The entrance to the waiting room beckoned to her. She couldn't resist its call. Her steps faltered when she stood in front of the closed door. Luckily for her, a set of beige blinds covered the glass from the inside of the room, not allowing anyone on the outside to observe the occupants inside the room. As much as she would have liked to have opened the door, she didn't have the gumption to insert herself into a situation where she clearly wasn't invited, not when it involved her boyfriend and his parents, but she couldn't make herself leave. She stood there for a full minute.

Hating the irritation that was now joining the parade of emotions that seemed to be coming together in some kind of unholy pact made up to gleefully overwhelm her, she pivoted on her heels, a hard task to accomplish when wearing flip-flops, and picked up the pace, rushing past the waiting room, grateful that no one inside would have known that she had followed them. Catching sight of the ladies' restroom a few doors down, she hurried towards it and entered the brightly-lit and, thankfully empty, room. She wasted no time and went straight to the sink. The blue eyes that looked back at her in the mirror seemed haunted, uncertain and even held a tint of unreleased anger to them. It seemed almost impossible to pull the edges of her lips up into a smile. She couldn't manage one, not right then. The splash of cold water on her face felt remarkably refreshing but it didn't do anything to chase away the doubts that were clouding her eyes.

When the cold water didn't help, she repeated the words she had given to Dan earlier on the ride in, thinking that maybe she would find some relief in the string of muttered curses. "Damn, damn, damn!" Even then she was wrong. It didn't help to alleviate all of the frustrations that she couldn't shake or even bring to some kind of a concluding end. Slapping her hands on the pale pink of the imitation marble sink, she leaned forward and glared at herself in the mirror. It was time to stop feeling sorry for herself, time to put her own desires and needs aside, she decided with a huff of annoyance, for the first time aimed entirely at herself. Her mouth drew back when she commanded herself, "Let. It. Go." The order was stated harshly, through pencil-thin lips. Taking a series of deep breaths, she stepped back from the sink and ran her fingers through her curls. Her prayers for some semblance of peace seemed to go unanswered. Unaware if she had made any progress at all in combating herself, a rather useless endeavor, Trixie mumbled one last incoherent string of words and then started to walk towards the door, as calmly and sedately as she could manage, all the while telling herself that all that mattered was Honey's well-being.

By the time she made through the door, she believed it. Honey was all that mattered, right here and right now. It helped her regain a smidgeon of her normal buoyancy and control. Starting to feel more like herself and less like some alien pod creature from some terrible B movie who had momentarily taken her over, Trixie began walking down the long hallway as fast as her legs could carry her, eager to get back to Honey's room and find out if it was her time to visit her. She barely noticed the lone doctor scratching down notes on a clipboard outside of a patient's room or the busy nurses hustling and bustling up and down the hallway that she passed on her trek.

When she came to the waiting room, she almost past it before the sound of two familiar voices floated to her through the door that now stood ajar. Their words brought her to an immediate halt. In spite of the fact that she knew she shouldn't do it, that it was unbelievably wrong and rude, she couldn't help but do it. She pushed her body up against the wall in what she hoped was a deceptively negligent pose to anyone walking past and inclined her head to the side, unashamedly listened in. The temptation was too much. She couldn't pass it up.

"I don't know, Maddie. I simply don't know," Matthew Wheeler remarked, sounding the most defeated and downbeat she had ever heard him to be, in direct contrast to the happy and relaxed man who had left his daughter's bedside a mere fifteen minutes earlier. With a frown working its way across her lips, Trixie leaned forward to hear more. "This time could have been deadly. When I think about what Jim told us about what happened in that damn store…I don't need to tell you this, Maddie, but it makes my blood run cold. I can't believe that Honey had to go through all of that. It's not right."

There was a rustling sound. It sounded like fabric on fabric. Closing her eyes, Trixie visualized the scene. She imagined that Madeleine Wheeler must have embraced her husband or vice-versa before she added in a soft, cultured voice that Trixie had to strain to hear, "I know, Matthew. I know. Thank goodness Honey is going to be fine. We have seen that for ourselves. No one was seriously injured, either. Brian and Jim will heal from their minor injuries, too. It turned out fine for everyone involved."

"This time." Matthew's voice carried a thread of weariness to it that had Trixie's eyes bulging open. She jolted in her spot when she heard him slap his hand down on a poor, unsuspecting table. "But how many times have we said that, Maddie? How many times have we shared the same sentiments with the Beldens and the Lynches?"

While it was a rhetorical question, Madeleine answered soberly, "Too many." Trixie heard a snapping sound, like she was opening her purse, and believed that Honey's mother was taking out her handkerchief again, most likely to dab at a few more tears. "How Honey and her friends can find themselves in so many dangerous situation time and time again is beyond me. How I wish that they would stop attracting danger…" Her voice trailed off.

Trixie almost expected them to lay the blame at her feet. After all, she knew without a doubt she was the one who generally led the rest of the Bob-Whites into their mysteries, even though her intentions were always good. While this particular time was different from the rest, she couldn't help but feel as if the next words out of their mouths were going to be aimed squarely against her. With shoulders stiff with pride, contradicting the sting of her own tears behind her eyes, she prepared for the onslaught. She was stunned when Matthew replied fiercely, putting her beliefs to shame, "That's part of the problem, too. We can't assign blame. The only people who are at fault are the criminals themselves. Somehow, it just seems to happen. Who knew that there were so many unsavory characters right here, in Sleepyside?"

Madeleine's small giggle had a shaky edge to it. "I remember thinking that Sleepyside was such a quaint, quiet little village when we first saw it, all those years ago. I was only half-right. It is definitely quaint but it is certainly not quiet."

"Or boring," Matthew remarked with a small chuckle. His laugh didn't sound as loud or boisterous as normal. It faded away until there was a moment of silence when Trixie couldn't hear anything. Then he announced forcefully, "Believe it or not, Sleepyside has to be the most exciting place on the face of the earth, even more so than Los Angeles, Las Vegas or Atlantic City. Who knew?"

Then Trixie heard a small, feminine sigh. It was low, deep and almost weary. Trixie knew Honey's parents well enough to know that Madeleine was now wringing her hands together, one of the only outward signs Honey's mother used to tell others of her own preoccupations and worries. "You do realize, Matthew, that we are about to have the same conversation that we have had countless times before, don't you?"

"Go for it, Maddie. Maybe we'll finally get the direction we are in need of." Matthew followed his wife's sigh with one of his own. Trixie felt her palms pool with sweat while she waited for the 'conversation.' "Or maybe we will finally develop the courage to do what we need to do."

Madeleine's words were uttered softly but with a steel behind them that had Trixie blinking her eyes. She had never considered that Honey's mother had such a strength to her before. "Considering what Jim recently told us about what happened at Mr. Lytell's store and who was responsible for injuring our daughter, I think it may finally be time to bring up our objections to Honey. She needs to know how we feel about her choice of study and her choice of profession, Matthew. We can't let it go any more. We have to tell her that we are concerned for her safety, now more than ever. Even if she doesn't agree with us and doesn't take our feelings into account, we have to let her know how we feel."

Trixie's mouth dropped open. She was surprised it didn't hit the floor. A shaky hand covered the small gasp of surprise. Never had she ever considered that Honey's parents weren't one hundred percent supportive of their choice to pursue criminal justice and become detectives once they graduated from college. Never. It made Trixie's heart give a painful lurch while she waited with horribly bated anticipation to find out what they would say next.

Matthew drew in a sharp breath before he announced, caught in that unforgiving place that had trapped many parents before them and would continue to do so well after they had their issues resolved, "I believe you are right. Hell, I know you are right. We can't forbid her to study criminal justice as her major at NYU or make her give up her plans to become a detective when she finishes school, Maddie. It's not the dark ages, you know."

Madeleine laughed softly. "Matthew," she admonished him gently.

"I'm only trying to make you laugh, dear." Matthew's own laugh mixed with hers before he sobered. "We can only bring up our fears and explain how we feel about it. However, I do believe that today's escapade will help her see our point of view even better. It may even give her the extra incentive to choose a different career path."

"That's all we can do, Matthew. We love Honey too much to not encourage her in anything that she wants to pursue, whether it's criminal justice, psychology, education, or social work." Madeleine breathed out raggedly before she declared, "Above all, I do not want her to get hurt. I can't stand knowing that she is in that room down the hall from us, hurt and terrified from her experience, and all at the hands of a…a…silly convict who should never have been released from jail in the first place!" she finished out on a huff, clearly unable to think of anything coarser to call Sax Jenner. Trixie would have found the description amusing if she wasn't in a state of numb shock.

Matthew said something too low for Trixie to hear. Then his voice grew minutely louder, allowing Trixie into the conversation once again, "It's not just Honey, Maddie. I also worry about our Trixie, too. It could easily be her in that hospital bed, recuperating from the attack. She is a part of our family, too, whether she realizes it or not."

"Maybe we can…" Then Madeleine blew out a long, low sigh, and brought up two names that had Trixie turning an ashen shade of pale. "We have had a similar conversation with Peter and Helen over the years, starting after that terrifying trip to St. Louis, when both of our girls were kidnapped and held hostage over night. While none of us want our daughters to face any type of danger, the four of us agreed then that we have to let the girls make their own decisions."

"True." Trixie pressed back, doing her best to become one with the wall. While she wanted to shut out what she was hearing, she couldn't help but be thankful that Matthew Wheeler's voice was becoming louder and carried back to her quite nicely. "But we are going to have to break our own decision and finally tell Honey how we really feel. Peter and Helen have always been as concerned about Trixie and Honey as we have. Maybe they will talk to Trixie, too."

"They both seem to attract danger and excitement. It seems to go hand-in-hand with so many of their projects," Madeleine murmured softly. There was a rap-a-tap sound as she tapped her low heels along the tiles. "The shame of it is that we can't interfere with their plans. We've never been able to. We'll be able to share our views with Honey but I know we would never be able to make her give up her path. It's still her choice."

"It's because we love them too much. That's the reason why we were never successfully able to curtail either girls', ah, choice of extra-curricular activities, for lack of a better word." Matthew spoke the truth, with conviction. "Both Honey and Trixie will need to do what they feel is best. They have to make their own decisions. We really can't talk to Trixie about this, not without stepping on Peter's and Helen's toes, and making them angry with us. That wouldn't do, would it? But we can certainly voice our concerns to our own daughter."

Madeleine made a soft sound of agreement, punctuated with another soft sigh. "You are right, Matthew. Maybe if Honey decides not to pursue criminal justice at NYU, Trixie will follow her lead. That would be lovely, wouldn't it?"

Matthew's laugh boomed out this time, long, low and delighted. "Not a chance in hell there, Maddie. Trixie has had her mind made up from the moment she tracked down our son and gave him to us. If she doesn't become a detective, she will be in law enforcement in some type of capacity. It's in her blood."

"You're right. I can't argue with you, Matthew. But then I never do win when I try to, do I?" Trixie heard the clicking sound as Madeleine turned on her heels and started to walk away from the open door. "It was very nice of Jim to go down to the cafeteria and bring us back our refreshments while we wait here. I don't think I can eat anything but I am really looking forward to a cup of soothing hot tea." Madeleine's voice sounded faint as she heard one, if not both, Wheelers take a seat far back from the door.

Trixie didn't listen to Mr. Wheeler's reply. Instead, she stared straight ahead, her blue eyes wide and filled with disbelief. Thankfully, the wall held her up, kept her from collapsing into a heap on the tiled floor. She needed its support while she hastily filed away the information she had unwillingly heard. The Wheelers didn't want Honey to pursue her planned studies in criminal justice? They weren't in favor of her becoming a detective? Since the answers were a unanimous yes, it wasn't hard to make the jump to the conclusion that they weren't excited about the possibility of Honey opening up a detective agency with her sometime down the line. She glossed over the fact that they felt that she was already a part of their family and had the same concerns for her safet and well-being. She felt the room start to tilt while her heart pounded out a few almost painful thumps. Glancing up at the ceiling, she wondered if Honey felt the same way. One tear escaped, cascaded down her cheek, before she angrily brushed it aside. She would not give in, Trixie told herself, and forced a series of breaths past the lump of emotion in her throat. Backing away from the door, she turned and practically fled from the scene, her legs eating up the hallway. The need to get far away before the Wheelers found out that she had intentionally eavesdropped on them drove her on until she reached the corner. Then she stopped, one hand against the wall, and made herself calm down before she showed her face to her friends again. She needed more than the minute she had expected. It was a long while before she was able to step around and face the others. She only hoped her disappointment and shock wasn't written clearly across her face.


	16. Chapter 16

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Fifteen

Trixie turned the corner and stopped. Halfheartedly scanning the small area, she noticed that Brian and Dan were the only Bob-Whites in the hallway. She didn't have to put to use her detective skills to know that meant Di and Mart were inside, visiting Honey. Of course, there was no sign of Jim, the person she needed to see. He was off, running an errand for his parents. She should remember. She had heard that, and more, a few minutes earlier outside that damn waiting room door. Trixie's head flopped back as she contemplated the square tiles on the ceiling, fiercely wishing that she could turn back the hands of time. If she could, then she would never have gone on her little walk. It would have been better for her, all around. But she couldn't hide herself from the others. She could only hope to hide her thoughts and emotions. Forcing a semblance of a smile to her rather shaky lips, she walked with what she hoped would pass for enthusiasm towards the others. "Hey," she called out, proud of herself when her voice didn't tremble.

Dan gave her a two-fingered salute, fooled by the small smile on her face. She didn't seem any different to him than she had on the truck ride in. While she was definitely not the normal Trixie where energy practically radiated off of her in waves, he wasn't worried about her, incorrectly attributing her lack of normal liveliness to her worry over Honey and her preoccupation with what had happened inside the store. "Glad to see you, Trix. We were wondering where you got to."

Brian's large grin spread across his entire face. His uncharacteristic agitation had dissipated the second he had walked into that room and had seen Honey for the first time, looking alive, well and beaming with joy at their visit. "You're up next. Dr. Ferris stopped by a few minutes ago to look in on Honey. He decided that we should cut our visits down to about ten minutes or so. She's starting to get tired but she's not going to give in until she's had a chance to see everyone. You know our Honey." A small flush stained his cheeks at his choice of words. Not wanting to call any extra attention to himself, especially when he heard a muffled snicker come from Dan's direction, he consulted his watch and shared in his best older brother's voice, "Mart and Di just went in. You've got about ten minutes to wait until it's your turn."

Her lips tilted up at the way he said 'our' Honey. She wasn't too immersed in her own odd assortment of emotions to realize the potential there, both for her friend and for her brother, and shared an amused glance with Dan. She was actually pathetically grateful that she could find something, anything, amusing right now. "How was Honey?" Trixie moved in closer to the two and studied their faces, hoping to find out that everything was fine with their friend. If her brother told her, then she would finally and truly believe it.

"Wonderful," Brian answered without thinking. His flush deepened when Trixie's chuckle mixed in with Dan's.

Dan took pity on his friend and didn't tease him, although the urge was still there. "She's Honey, of course," he replied easily and ran a hand through his thick hair. "As usual, she's more concerned about others than herself. She wanted to make sure that all of us were fine." He thought back to the way Honey hadn't been able to take her eyes off of Brian's face and the rather impressive bruise shadowing his one eye. Her face had gone all soft and sad before she had wiped the expression away, only to be replaced with a look of unguarded tenderness for the young man in front of him. There were a few moments when Dan had felt like an intruder in there. His thoughts echoed Jim's recent ones. There would most certainly be another couple in their midst before the summer ended. Maybe even by the time the week was out. He inclined his head to the side and wondered if anyone would take him up on that particular bet. Mart was a possibility, he thought slyly. When Trixie gave him an elbow to the stomach, her gentle way of asking for more, he grunted and said, "She smiled the second we walked through the door."

Brian thought that the smile had been entirely for his benefit, since he had been the first one to enter the room. He was looking forward to the extra time of driving into work with her, when she was able to return to work in a few days. His summer suddenly seemed like it was going to be the best one of his life. He coughed to cover up his preoccupation but, judging from the knowing looks coming his way, he wasn't successful. "Hmm," he got out, thinking of something to say that wouldn't give away the thoughts that were currently rooted in his mind. "She asked about everyone, especially you, Trix. We told her that you and Jim would be in last to visit her."

"Right," Trixie replied, tucking an errant curl behind an ear. "I'm looking forward to seeing her again. I'm not surprised that she's asking about the rest of us instead of worrying about herself, though." That was Honey, pure and simple. She hadn't expected anything less.

"Where were you?" Dan asked curiously after a moment, his dark eyes taking on a sharp edge to them. "Brian and me were surprised to only have Mart and Di waiting for us after Dr. Ferris kicked us out of the room. We knew where Jim was since he went to talk to his parents before we went in but neither Di or Mart seemed to know where you had disappeared to."

Trixie spread her hands out in front of her. "I needed to take a walk, Dan. I was getting tired of waiting. I needed to do something active. As you know, it's turned out to be a long day." That wasn't the whole truth. It had been a long, frustrating, and exceedingly wearisome day for her. The small shake of her head sent her curls bobbing. Even though she had appreciated the exercise at the time, she rather wished she had stayed put and hadn't taken her sojourn down the hallway. Then she wouldn't have heard something she really hadn't ever wanted to hear and couldn't forget. She kept her face purposefully blank.

"I would say it's been one hell of a long day," Dan corrected under his breath. He thought back on the events of the past few hours, could hardly believe that it was part of the same day that had started off normally with his morning cup of coffee and a trip to the police station to report for his job. Resting a hand on his hip, he announced, "It's going to be a long night, too."

"Dan and I have decided to spend the night here," Brian explained when Trixie stared at them strangely. "Even if we can't stay in the room with Honey, we want to be here, to give her all of the support that we can. She'll feel better simply knowing that we are here. Are you in?"

She actually laughed. It wasn't as happy or tinkling as normal but it served its purpose and, even better, it didn't arouse anyone's suspicions. Neither Brian or Dan heard anything different in it. "Do you really have to ask, Brian?" she asked with the barest trace of sarcasm that would have made Mart proud. "Of course I'm going to stay here. I had already planned on doing that. We can't leave, not when one of our own is hurt."

He flashed a quick grin. "That's what I thought you'd say. I'll check with Mart when he comes out but I know that he will repeat your sentiments, too. He'll probably use words of more than three syllables but it'll mean the same. He'll be staying with us, too."

"You know Di and Jim will also say yes," Dan interjected with another short laugh and dropped a casual arm around her shoulder, giving her a friendly squeeze before losing contact with her. "Trixie here hit it right on the head. No one is going anywhere. It looks like the Bob-Whites are going to be camping out at the hospital tonight."

"You're absolutely right," Brian told Dan. He turned back to Trixie and offered helpfully, "I'll call our parents after I talk to Mart, if you like. They will want to know that we're staying here for the night."

Trixie closed her eyes briefly, remembering the mention of her parents during the overheard talk between the Wheelers. She considered what the Wheelers had said and couldn't chase away the thought that her own parents may not truly approve about her choice of profession. If their thoughts mirrored the Wheelers, she was not only going to be severely disappointed and hurt but also torn. But she wasn't going to searching out the answer to that one. While she was brave enough to hunt down almost any criminal under the sun, she wasn't certain if she had it in her to ask that simple question to her parents. The hesitancy on her part could be construed as cowardly but she truly did not want to know. It wouldn't stop her, whatever their beliefs were, not when she was absolutely certain of her path. She only prayed that Honey would be there with her, every step of the way. "Do they know what happened today?" she questioned, a little guiltily, when Brian's eyebrows lifted at her continued silence.

"I had a message from Moms on my cell phone." Brian leaned up against the wall, unconcerned with the fact that he was bending the truth a little, and stretched out his long limbs. There had actually been seven messages in all, starting from the time they had raced out of their house to the time he had left Mr. Lytell's store on his way up to the Manor House to talk to Honey's parents. In a highly unusual move for the normal calm, sedate, responsible older brother and son that he was, he hadn't taken the time to return the messages or even to stop in at Crabapple Farm when he passed his driveway. In fact, he had waited to call his mother back until he was back on Glen Road, heading towards town and the hospital. He had been able to talk to Mart, too. "She wasn't too happy that we hadn't filled her in earlier on what was happening but she understood why we needed to leave the house as quickly as we did and why we both rushed to the hospital to find out what was going on. I'll also update her on Honey, too. Obviously, she was worried about her."

Rush to the hospital? Trixie heard the words and bit down on her smart retort. She hadn't wanted to rush to the hospital, had known it would take at least an hour or two before they would be able to see Honey. No. She hadn't rushed. She had been pushed into it, by someone who was absent from their small conclave in the hall. Inwardly sighing, she didn't bring it up. It wouldn't have been satisfying, not when the person who had done the pushing wasn't in sight. "That sounds good. Moms and Dad will want to know," she declared absently. Her brow furrowed as she stared at the door, mentally calculating the time. She couldn't help but hope that Mart and Di would come through the door at any second. She wanted to see Honey. She looked down at her hands, now free from the blood that had seeped out of Honey's wound. "How…how does she look?" she inquired in a quiet voice.

Brian didn't look beyond the pale color of Trixie's face. She hadn't resembled herself since they had received the phone call from Dan and had torn out of the house in a hurry to help Honey. "She looks good. Her wound was taken care of very nicely. I don't think it will leave that much of a scare. She's tired but she's going to pull through just fine. I'm going to side with Dr. Ferris. I don't have any doubt that she'll be released tomorrow. He's already told her that he doesn't expect her back to work until she's feeling better. He says the earliest she can return back to his practice is on Wednesday but he hopes she'll take the week off."

Personally, Trixie wasn't looking forward to Wednesday. It meant the day that Jim would officially start his summer job, far away from her and in another part of the state. In a part of the state that didn't have any communication system other than snail mail. She wasn't looking forward to it, especially now that she didn't have a job to help keep her busy and her mind off of his absence. "That's great. No problems, then?"

Brian hesitated a second before sharing in what she considered to be his practicing doctor-voice; nice, mellow, low and purposefully soothing, "She doesn't remember what happened in the store. Honey told Dan and I that when we were visiting her. She doesn't remember anything about it."

"I know," Trixie answered softly. When Brian and Dan frowned at her in combined surprise, she was quick to add, "Sergeant Molinson told Jim that she wasn't able to answer any of his questions before the ambulance brought her to the hospital. He shared that with me when we were downstairs."

Trixie and Jim had been the last to arrive upstairs, he remembered with a start. Brian then continued, "The last customer she remembers having is a young mom on her way to White Plains with a little girl who needed to use the restroom. She says that when they were checking out, the little girl somehow managed to turn over that old, metal magazine stand. Honey recalls saying goodbye to them and then starting to clean up the magazines. She doesn't remember anything else. That's her last memory." Until she opened her eyes and saw him crouching over her but Brian didn't offer that information up. He hoped Dan wouldn't make a big deal out of how happy Honey had looked when she had announced that little gem but, judging from the large grin working its way across his friend's face, he doubted if he would be able to dodge that particular bullet. "Dr. Ferris told Di and Mart before they went in that it would be best not to talk about it. We're supposed to relay that message to you and to Jim, too."

Trixie raised her eyebrows. "I won't grill her, Brian," she interrupted when she correctly guessed what his next words were going to be. "It'll be hard but I'll manage to keep my curiosity in check. I promise. I also won't tell her what happened. I only want to see her." The sarcasm was back. She half-turned and faced the door, the slight move cutting off any more conversation between the three, and watched the door open.

Di and Mart came through the door, both smiling and looking more relieved than they had when she had left them to go for her walk. Trixie mumbled something to them and didn't waste another second, unwilling to give up a single second of time with her friend. She barreled her way through the doorway, without Jim at her side, but came to halt the second the door closed behind her. The room wasn't what she had expected. It was painted a pale yellow instead of the normal institutional white that adorned the walls in the hallway. The beginning of the last rays of the sun poured through the lone window, making the room much more cheerful than she had anticipated or could recall from her few years as a volunteer at the hospital. She fleetingly wondered if the hospital was making improvements to the rooms, to make them more comfortable and hospitable. But the hospital bed with its crisp white linens reminded her of its true purpose, as did the slight figure reclining in the bed. Rushing over, she grabbed a hold of Honey's hand and held on tight. "Honey!" she breathed out, finding it hard to believe that she was standing next to her best friend again.

The smile reached the hazel of her eyes despite the fact that there was a weariness within her that seemed to have seeped its way all the way through her bones. She suppressed it the best that she could. The need to see Trixie was too strong. "Hi, Trixie," she chirped happily. "Have a seat. I've missed you."

Trixie grabbed the lone chair in the room and brought it over to the side of the sturdy hospital bed. Slowly sinking down onto its ultra thin cushion, she unobtrusively catalogued the changes to Honey's face and found it hard to believe that only a few hours ago she had left her friend at the store, looking cheerful, vibrant and without any marks upon her face. It was terrible that Honey now lay in a hospitable bed, with a small cut on the side of her temple that was surrounded by a purpling bruise, and her memory wiped clean of the events that led up to her injury. Trixie felt tears start to threaten, felt her own guilt start to overwhelm her, and would gladly have switched places with Honey in a heartbeat if she could have. It wasn't fair. "I'm so sorry," she managed to say past the emotion that was threatening to choke her. "Honey, I…"

Honey, sweet, understanding Honey, had already guessed how Trixie would respond. She covered Trixie's hand with her other one, cutting off the string of words she knew that Trixie was preparing to spout off, and declared as strongly as the ache in her head would allow her to do, "Don't! Don't go there, Trixie. It's not your fault. You didn't do this to me. You are not responsible. For anything," she repeated forcefully. "No one holds you responsible at all. I certainly don't."

"But you were covering my shift for me!" Trixie hated the wailing sound to her voice and worked hard to attempt to get her struggling emotions under wraps. Sucking in a deep breath, she restated, with as much calmness as she could muster, "It's not fair, Honey. It's not. I should have been at the store, not you. I should have been working when this happened. It was my shift, not yours. I'm so sorry that this happened to you." She blinked back tears furiously. "I am so sorry," she repeated again, her voice whisper-thin and soft.

Honey found the energy to shake her head. "Trixie," she murmured gently, sounding so much like her mother that it caused Trixie to snap her head back in astonishment. "No, it is not your fault. You are not to blame. We can't waste energy on trying to change what happened or wishing for a different outcome." Her eyebrows drew together while she thought about the period of black that was her memory. Nothing seemed to want to penetrate it, no matter how hard she tried to recall it. It simply wasn't there, which was more vexing than the dull, throbbing pain inside her head.

Trixie held onto Honey's hand tighter and breathed out a sigh. "I may believe that, Honey. Someday."

She hadn't expected anything less. Trixie was nothing if not stubborn. A ghost of a smile played across her lips. She squeezed Trixie's hand again and declared, "Well, if anyone's to blame, it's not you. It's that horrible man who tried to rob the store. I can't seem to remember him, though, no matter how hard I try to. What was his name, anyway?" She could remember someone mentioning his name during the whirlwind of visits that were beginning to meld into one, maybe Mart or Dan, but she couldn't place it. Most likely it had been Dan, she thought. She had spent most of that visit staring at Brian.

"Sax Jenner." Trixie practically spit the name of out. Even the simple act of saying his name made her want to cringe, with anger and disgust. The last image she had of him, sullen yet still cocky, hand-cuffed, and being stuffed into the back of a police cruiser while two smirking police officers looked on, filled her with a unique sense of exhilaration. He was going back to jail, to face even more charges as well as his broken parole, and he hadn't been successful in his true endeavor. Those were all positives, in her book, but she still couldn't shake away the ball of odd emotions that seemed to have taken up permanent residence within the pit of her stomach. "He's the one who tried to rob the store, Honey."

While Honey clearly possessed the intelligence to put two and two together and come up with the actual reason why Jenner was at the store, she didn't have the strength, not right now, and didn't look any further into Trixie's explanation. "Well, he certainly picked the wrong store to rob," she remarked cheerfully, unbelievably brave with her attempt at levity. Her free hand started to play with the edge of her white blanket while she continued to grip Trixie's with her other one. Her face contorted while she tried to piece together what she knew. "From what I understand, and this is all coming second-hand since I can't recall one single thing that happened during that time, both Jim and Brian took care of him before the police got there. He's back in prison. That's where he should be."

"Yeah," Trixie agreed immediately, refusing to feel jealous that she hadn't been in at the kill. It had been difficult for someone who liked taking charge, especially in a situation like the one Honey had found herself in. She hadn't enjoyed being forced into a supporting role instead of residing in the driver's seat. "Sergeant Molinson and the rest of the Sleepyside Police Department came soon after you pushed the help button. You were very brave, Honey." Her voice caught a little as she remarked strongly, "I'm really proud of you."

"Thanks. While I don't appear to want to remember, I know that I tried to react the way that you would have, Trixie, had you been there." Honey could feel the truth of the sentiment all the way through her. There was simply no other way she could have reacted. She knew that thinking of Trixie had helped give her strength, the way it had through many of their adventures when they had found themselves in numerous difficult and precarious situations.

Trixie's laugh was slightly forced, not as easy as it normally was. She couldn't help it; she was feeling off-balance and not like herself. She had never been one to deal well with an overload of emotions, especially the messy ones. With the way they seemed to keep popping up at her, she wasn't certain how to handle them and decided that the best thing she could do was to keep as tight of a lid on them as she could. "You were wonderful, Honey. Very brave and very strong."

Honey's answering smile was beautiful. "It all turned out well. No one was seriously hurt. Bruised, maybe, but that's not bad. The bad guy is in jail. It did turn out all right. The Bob-Whites are fine." Her pause was almost imperceptible. "No problems, right?"

There seemed to be plenty of them still brewing; at least, in Trixie's busy mind. When she thought about the fact that Jim had maneuvered her away from his questioning with the sergeant, the way he insisted that it wasn't the time to let her in on everything, the conversation she had overheard between the Wheelers, and her own feelings of guilt that she couldn't quite dispel even after seeing and talking with Honey…there were problems galore, in her mind, at least. Huge, gaping problems that didn't offer her a solution or allow a sense of relief. Not at the moment. But she didn't voice her concerns to Honey. "No problems," she parroted back in what passed for a believable voice.

Honey didn't pay attention to the slightly lackluster quality to Trixie's words. She smiled serenely in response and touched a hand to her forehead. While she could certainly feel the knot on her forehead, she hadn't been able to look at it yet. "Does it look bad?"

Trixie left her chair and studied where Honey's fingers were pointed. "No, not really," she responded after studying the cut. The cut was smaller than she had thought it would be. When she had seen the wound at the store, blood had been seeping from it. Brian had muttered something to her about blood and facial wounds but she hadn't paid too much attention to him. She had been more worried about Honey. "Believe it or not, the cut is pretty small, Honey. It may be about two inches long. There is a bruise around it but that will fade in no time."

Dropping her hand, Honey settled back against her thin, hospital-style pillow, relieved that it wasn't too bad. "I didn't want to ask anyone else about it, Trix. I thought Di would burst into tears if I brought it up to her and I couldn't ask any of the boys what I looked like. I'm sure every single one of them would have started stammering and stuttering at the thought of trying to explain it to me." She chuckled at the image and then shared, "Brian did tell me that the glue Dr. Ferris used will help cut down on the likelihood of a scar. I like the sound of that." She had really liked the way he had told her that, with his dark eyes staring intently into hers, while Dan had seemed to drift away into the background. Hmm…she thought with a small, secret grin that she didn't share with Trixie. Maybe. Her toes curled up under the blanket at the thought.

Trixie wasn't certain what she should say so she settled for an old stand-by, "That's good, Honey."

Honey pulled at the edge of her pristine white blanket, her forehead furrowed in puzzlement, and debated on whether or not she should bring it up again. When she had asked each set of visitors, starting with her parents and ending with Mart and Di, they had all sidestepped her question and hadn't answered her fully, not to her satisfaction. Whether they were hiding behind doctor's orders or their own collective but, in her mind, misguided need to shield her from the truth, she couldn't tell. She was certain of one thing, though. She wanted to know. Trixie would tell her. She would see to it. "Do you…do you know what happened, Trixie? I've been trying to remember but everything is simply blank. It goes all black and fuzzy when I try to. Then my head starts to hurt again." She touched the temple that ached and added with a woeful laugh, "I can't recall a thing. It's bothering me. I know from my head and from Brian's black eye that it couldn't have been an easy, simple or even an innocent event. I can remember talking with you and Mart, before you left to go home. I can remember walking through the store to try and familiarize myself with its supplies. I can even remember my last customers but that's it."

"A mother with a little girl," Trixie mumbled under her breath, recalling what Brian had told her.

"Yes!" exploded out of Honey with as much energy as she could drum up. She leaned forward, excited that Trixie knew. "You're right! The little girl needed to use the restroom. Then she ended up knocking over that magazine stand. The last thing I remember is picking up the magazines." She grabbed Trixie's elbow and implored, "Will you fill in the rest for me?"

Trixie's shoulders slumped while she debated on sharing what she knew with her, despite what Jim, her brother and even Dr. Ferris had suggested. After running a hand through the tangle of her blonde curls, she came to the only decision possible. Honey was her friend. She was asking for help. She couldn't hold back what she knew, no matter what. And, she realized fatalistically, what she knew was rather pitiful, anyway. "Really, Honey, I am probably only aware of a little more than you," she warned her, wondering if that would put Honey off from her quest to discover more.

"I knew I could count on you." Her sudden wave of tiredness receded. She could stay up now that she had the proper incentive. She had all the faith in the world in her best friend. Drawing her slim shoulders back up against the pillow, she carefully arranged the blanket around her and took a deep breath, "I'm ready. I need to know."

"I don't know a lot," Trixie reiterated strongly, wanting to impress the truth on her friend. When Honey nodded in understanding, she sank back down into the chair and started to explain haltingly, "I think it was about three o'clock when Dan called our house. Brian answered the phone. Dan was rather abrupt, which is unusual for him. He wanted to know who was at the store. Two calls for help had been made to the police station, in pretty close succession. One call had come from the help button at the store and the other had come from a cell phone. Dan didn't know who called from the cell but it turned out to be Jim."

Honey was immensely proud of the fact that she had been able to press the help button. It showed that she had been focused on surviving, that she hadn't been intimidated by the thief in front of her. "Oh, that's good," she breathed out, clasping her hands together in delight. "That's excellent! So I got in touch with the police the only way that I could and then my brother did, too. Since you were there, I guess you, Brian and Dan must have come over to the store, too?"

"As fast as Brian could drive us. And he drove pretty fast down Glen Road. Dan arrived a few minutes later after we did. He heard the calls come in while he was working at the police station and then followed the officers to the store. " The blue of her eyes had regained most of their normal warmth. It felt incredibly good, exceptionally right, to be going over the 'case', as it were, with her partner. It was like every other time. Her voice sounded stronger and she moved to sit on the edge of her chair, getting as close to the bed as she could. "Jim made the second call for help, soon after he came to the store. I'm not sure how much he witnessed or even how he happened onto the scene. He's been a little tightlipped over the entire escapade." Her slight frown spoke more than the frustration in her tone.

Honey patted Trixie's hand, always the one to give assistance when needed. "Don't worry, Trix. He'll let you in on it soon, you know that. It's been a long, frustrating day for everyone." Then she thought of why she had been working at the store, the significance of the day for Trixie and for Jim. Her eyes went wide but she bit her bottom lip to keep from releasing the thought. Had Trixie realized it yet? She couldn't tell.

Trixie waved away her frustrations and picked up the story to the best of her ability. "From what I can piece together, Jim found out that the front door had been locked. He must have thought it was suspicious because he then went to back of the store where he broke into the building by removing the old screen from the open window in the back room. I think he must have stayed in the back room and waited for his chance to help you. Brian and I got there at some point after that. We found the locked front door also and were able to see you and Jenner through one of the windows. We ran around to the back of the building where we saw the open window. Brian, being Brian, ordered me to stay outside and then he quickly followed in Jim's footsteps."

"That rankled. Knowing you the way that I do, you certainly didn't stay outside," Honey stated loyally, eternally thankful that she was having a few of her many questions answered. She couldn't remember, wasn't ever certain if she would ever be able to, but she could visualize the picture that Trixie was painting for her perfectly. "You couldn't. You went inside, too."

"Of course! Honey, you know me too well." Trixie found herself laughing, truly laughing, for the first time since the incident had happened, while her eyes began to sparkle with a return of her normal exuberance. She shared, her voice growing a little louder with her enthusiasm, "It took me a few tries but I was able to climb in through the back window, too. By the time I was able to get inside and see what was happening, it was all over. Jim had the gun trained on Jenner. Brian had him on the floor. You…" Here her voice faltered, as did the rush of excitement. Trixie forced the next words out of her mouth on a rush. "You were on the floor, too. We didn't realize it then but you were unconscious. You must have hit your head on one of the shelves…at some point. I don't know when," Trixie quickly put in when she realized how still Honey had become.

Honey hadn't heard anything else beyond the word 'gun'. "Gun?" she repeated slowly, her face turning an alarming shade of white.

The chair scooted back when Trixie jumped up quickly to reassure her. "Don't worry about it, Honey. There's no need to. No one was shot. The gun didn't go off or anything. Don't…"

Pausing in the doorway, Jim entered the room, closing the door behind him with a deliberately careful click. He had heard enough of the conversation between the two to know that Trixie had filled Honey in on most of what had happened in spite of the fact that she wasn't supposed to. He strode swiftly towards the bed and stood next to Trixie. He noticed the pallor to Honey's skin and had a good suspicion behind why she was so pale. "Hey, Sis," he greeted her soothingly while he did his best not to look at Trixie, almost afraid that he would say something he would definitely later regret if he did.

Honey immediately saw the cut on his face, as well as the beauty of the bruise surrounding it, and felt a small frown travel its way across her normally serene face. "You, too, Jim?" she murmured.

Jim didn't touch his wound. Instead, he pointed to her head. "How does it feel, Honey?"

She patted it again with gentle fingers. "Not too bad, actually." She threw a grateful look at Trixie, unaware of the undercurrents flowing between the two. "Trixie says it doesn't look bad at all. Brian even told me that he doubted if it would leave a scar, thanks to that magical glue the doctors use nowadays. Now, if only the dreadful pounding in my head would stop, I would be okay." Her chuckle was meant to reassure them but it had the opposite effect on both of them. Trixie suddenly looked guilty, as if she was responsible for the headache. Jim suddenly looked grim.

When neither responded, Honey tactfully changed the subject, erroneously believing that she had made them quiet with the mention of her headache. "Trixie was just telling me what she knew about what happened in the store since I can't seem to recall much of anything. She's been the most helpful out of all my visitors. No one else has seemed to want to when I asked them to. Can you help me fill in the gaps, Jim? I want to know."

Trixie held her breath while she waited for Jim's answer. But she had finally catalogued the meaning behind the one odd look he had leveled her way when he had entered the room. Irritation. He was irritated with her. She gritted her teeth behind another forced smile.

Jim's smile didn't warm the green of his eyes. He avoided the silent woman standing next to him, not glancing in her direction. "Let's concentrate on getting you home first, Honey. Doctor's orders. Then I'll be glad to 'fill in the gaps', as you so eloquently put it, later."

Oh, yeah, Trixie thought as she chewed on her lip and stuffed her hands into her back pockets. He was most definitely steamed with her. She didn't need to hide behind a number of fictitious reasons for breaking her word and telling Honey what she knew. She hadn't been able to look beyond the pleading in her friend's eyes. The truth was she hadn't been able to say no. Not to Honey. Never to Honey. Whether it would be enough to cool him down or not, she didn't know but it was the only defense she had.

"Hmm," Honey hummed out, wondering if she could talk him into telling her more. One closer glance at her brother told her that she didn't have a chance. She shook her head once and then stopped when the slight pounding behind her temple started to increase with the motion. He could be right, she realized with a sigh filled with chagrin. She needed to get out of the hospital. And home. Then she wanted to know more. "I can't seem to argue with you about it right now, Jim. Let's leave it alone for now. We'll have to hold that conversation for another time," she reluctantly admitted before tapping Trixie's forearm. The smile she gifted her was genuine and appreciative. "But I am glad that you were able to tell me some of it, though, Trix. Believe it or not you really set my mind at ease. It's awfully dreadful not to be able to remember something, no matter how awful that something could be." She ended on a small, slightly hopeless chuckle.

The tired circles under his sister's eyes weren't to be missed. He couldn't ever remember seeing her look so exhausted, not even after some of the more harrowing adventures she and Trixie had partaken in over the years. While he didn't want to leave after having just arrived, it was obvious that there wasn't another option. His sister had to get some much-needed sleep. "We should leave you alone now, Honey. You need to rest."

She didn't have the strength to resist his suggestion. It was too tempting. Her eyelids were already half-closed while she mumbled, "Will you stay near me, all of you? I don't want to spend the night in the hospital, all alone. I would feel much better if I knew that you were all here."

"You have to know that we're already planning on it. We couldn't leave you here, by yourself," Trixie insisted. She tucked the blanket around Honey, hoping to warm her up and offer her some comfort at the same time. "Rest, Honey. We will all either be in the waiting room or in here with you, if Dr. Ferris tells us it's okay to have someone stay in the room with you." One last squeeze of her hand and Trixie stepped back from the bed, watching through large eyes while Jim wished his sister a good rest. Honey was already close to sleep before he turned back from the bed.

She met Jim's long, telling stare with a blank one of her own. When he turned on his heels, she grumbled under her breath and followed him towards the closed door. Sending one last glance back, she watched the even rise and fall of Honey's chest. "She's asleep, Jim. She looks so peaceful," Trixie remarked, hoping to break the silence that stretched on between them.

"I told you that she didn't remember anything," Jim shot back swiftly. Nerves on edge, he ran a tense hand through his hair. "In fact, Brian told me the very same thing before I came in here. He even mentioned that Dr. Ferris said that it would be best not to tell Honey what happened in the store right now." He gave her an accusatory look. "What possessed you to tell her?"

"You have got to be kidding me," she countered in a ragged voice. Trixie twirled around, her mouth falling open in full, furious shock. While the righteous anger wanted to be released, and in a huge, magnificent display, she curbed it the best that she could. Only the stain of red on her cheeks and the flash in her eyes gave her away. "She asked, Jim. Honey asked me to tell her what I know. I couldn't lie to her. I couldn't refuse her. She has every right to know what happened to her in that damn store. Besides," she added, shrugging a defensive shoulder and releasing a little of her own frustrations on him, "I wasn't able to tell her much at all, only the small parts that I happen to know. _Someone_ has been rather closemouthed over the whole thing." Blue eyes narrowed into thin slits while she glared at him.

He opened his mouth, close to unleashing the famous Frayne temper, when he reluctantly reeled it back in. It took nearly a superhuman effort but he managed to grab a stranglehold of it before he let it out. For one, holding what had the promise of becoming a loud shouting match in Honey's hospital room wasn't appropriate. For another, there was no argument he could make against the point that Trixie had made. She couldn't refuse Honey anything, especially now. He had nothing to contend it. Their bond ran too deep. Aggravated irritation still tugged at him but he successfully kept it under control, well aware that their collective tempers were being stretched to the breaking point, brought on by frustration and fear over what had happened to Honey and their inability to prevent it. "Let's table it, Trix," he suggested instead, amazed at how calm he was able to sound, and felt some of the stiffness leave his shoulders. "As I mentioned earlier, now's not the time to go into this, is it?"

She was seriously impressed that he hadn't let loose on her, especially with the fractious words she had tossed at him in a show of blatant insolence. Deciding that she could be as mature as he was, she nodded mutely, keeping a tight lid on the tempest of temper within her. "Right," she agreed slowly and reached for the door handle. "Later it is."

She looked so dejected, so unlike the normally bright, vivacious woman that he knew her to be. It bothered him, more than the events of the day. The need to touch, to offer support and comfort, was strong while his own frustrations began to fade away, only to have his intentions rudely curtailed by the damn door. His hand fell back to his side with only mere inches before touching her shoulder. He nodded a greeting at the grim-faced nurse who only responded with lifted eyebrows. Aware that they were being summarily dismissed, he placed a loose hand on the small of Trixie's back. He was stunned by the amount of tension he could feel within her compact body. "I think we need to leave the room."

She moved out of the nurse's way, who walked silently past them on her way to start taking her patient's vitals and agreed. "Let's go find the others, Jim." One last look back at Honey, then she stepped over the threshold, and she joined the large group of Bob-Whites in the hallway. She tagged along, as the large and suddenly loud group made their way to the waiting room since they had been unceremoniously kicked out of Honey's room. Her steps were slower and more sedate than the others. She kept her eyes trained on Jim the entire way, caught his profile every now and then, and wished that she could read his thoughts while he carried on a conversation with Brian.

A quick glance at the clock in the hall told her that it was already past six o'clock in the evening. She found it hard to believe a little over three hours had passed since she had been sitting in her own living room, complaining about the passage of time. Staring down the clock as if it was an adversary instead of a helpful piece of equipment, she felt a deep sigh work its way through her. Somehow, in the three hours that had passed, it felt like a lot had changed, and maybe not for the better. She didn't like being intentionally kept in the dark about the incident in the store. She didn't like being told what to do, either by her older brother and her boyfriend. She really didn't like knowing that the Wheelers were hesitant about her and Honey's choices to study criminal justice and pursue a career as detectives after graduation. Mostly, she hated the fact that her best friend was hurt and hospitalized and she couldn't shake the feeling that she was responsible for it, however ridiculous and unreasonable that feeling was. Trying to keep her own rampaging thoughts hidden from the others, and most especially from Jim, she pinned that same unsteady smile on her lips and entered the waiting room with her friends, the quietest out of them all.


	17. Chapter 17

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Sixteen

"Is anyone hungry?" Mart's voice suddenly boomed out within the confines of the small waiting room. A few chortles were his only response, as well as a well-aimed cushion that hit him in the stomach. He refused to be dissuaded, sent a glare that should have scorched Dan on the spot for tossing the pillow at him, and added, "Hey, come on, guys. It's almost seven o'clock here. I don't know about the rest of you but I haven't eaten a thing since lunchtime." That was hours upon hours ago. He recalled the leftover barbecued chicken and pasta salad with a fond smile.

Dan picked up the pillow and threw it back on one of the two small sofas. "Normally I'd say something sarcastic but the bottomless pit here has a good point. It has been a long time since any of us have eaten."

Di aimed a sweet smile in the direction of her boyfriend and threaded her hand through his. "I'm in complete agreement with Mart. Since we are going to be spending the night here, let's have some dinner. Any ideas?" She was suddenly hungry, too. Now that she knew Honey was really and truly okay, it was time to get back into the normal routine of things. Dinner sounded like a great way to get started.

"I doubt if the cafeteria has much to offer. It will probably be closing soon," Brian mused aloud. "We would probably end up being stuck with vending machine meals."

Mart playfully rubbed his stomach. While he would certainly eat the hospital food or countless snacks from the machines without a qualm, he was that hungry, he had something better in mind. Something even more delicious. And something that everyone in the room loved to partake in. It was a no-brainer. "Let's get take-out from Wimpy's. The dinner rush is probably just about over so our timing couldn't be more perfect. It sounds divine to me. We could send out a few fearless foragers of food. They could retrieve the delicious morsels and then bring them back here the rest of us to partake in." He stared up at the ceiling as if contemplating the upcoming meal, a serene smile on his face. Then, he flattened his tired body out on the seat, clearly not volunteering to go and get the food.

"I'll go," Dan called out after he snorted at Mart. He didn't mind the chore. It would help keep him busy, help keep him focused, and, even better, get him out of the hospital. Hospitals ranked very low on the list of places he liked to spend time in. He jingled his truck keys and canvassed for assistance, "I could use some help. Does anyone want to come with me?"

Trixie jumped up from her seat without a second thought. The inactivity was getting to her. She almost felt that if she stayed within the room for any longer, the four walls would start to suffocate her. She had chosen not to participate in any of the conversations, had been more than content to brood in her corner of the dark burgundy sofa. Jim wasn't in the room, either, yet another reason why she wouldn't mind leaving the premises for a while. He had disappeared soon after they had entered it, joining in on another report with his parents and Dr. Ferris somewhere in the hospital. There was no telling when he would come back. She could certainly use the distraction from her thoughts. "Sure, Dan. I'd love to help you. The usual, right, for everyone?" she asked the rest of their group. After receiving three nods of approval, she trotted over to Dan at the door.

"You'll have to hold your horses, Mart," Dan joked as he turned the handle. "I know it will be tough for you to wait. We'll be back just as soon as we can." They left the room with the echoes of Brian's and Di's laughter and Mart's loud groans in response.

Trixie's pace slowed when they neared the nurse's station. She glanced up and down the hallway but didn't see any sign of Jim, his parents or Dr. Ferris. Hiding a frown, she hurried to catch up with Dan, who was waiting for her at the elevator with an upraised eyebrow. The elevator ride down was much quicker than the one Trixie had shared with Jim on the way up. They burst out of the hospital, into the overwhelming warmth of the day. "Gleeps," she complained loudly the second her foot touched the sidewalk. "I forgot how hot it was outside. It is terrible."

"I think we're finally going to get a few storms rolling through the area tomorrow," Dan replied as he silently echoed Trixie's sentiments. In his mind, he used a few more profane words to describe the heat. They fell into an easy step together as they walked down the sidewalk and towards his truck. "Mr. Maypenny mentioned that to me that this morning before I headed into work. I always put stock in his beliefs about the weather. According to him, the storms should finally put an end to this stupid heat wave."

"I'll be glad to have a few days of better, cooler weather." Trixie stopped by the black truck and waited for him to unlock her door. She climbed into the truck and slipped on her seatbelt, staring silently out into the bright sunshiny day while Dan took his spot in the driver's seat. "It's so hard to believe that only a few hours have passed since we first got to the hospital," she mumbled, more to herself than to Dan. "It feels like forever instead."

While he didn't need to answer, he chose to, anyway. Turning the key in the ignition, he put the truck in reverse and backed up carefully. "This has been one of those odd and unusual days we sometimes have to suffer through, Trix. Nothing happened the way we expected it to, did it? At least we all have the day off tomorrow."

Trixie idly looked for the vehicles of the other Bob-Whites as Dan drove through the parking lot. She unerringly found Jim's Jeep, parked on the opposite end. Part of her wished that she was completing the errand with him. Another part realized that it was better for her to have some time to get her feelings sorted out and under control. One shoulder moved as she thought that nothing was going to satisfy her, not today. It was odd and unusual, exactly as Dan had said.

"Trixie?" Dan's voice cut into her line of thought.

"Oh!" She jolted in her seat and then chuckled at her own foolishness. "I was daydreaming, I guess. Sorry. Well, you know I don't have to worry about a job anymore, not since the debacle at the store. I now have the entire summer off now." But she could chuckle about it now. The embarrassment was long gone, had been replaced with pride. She wasn't going to let the fact that Mr. Lytell had fired her for absolutely no valid reason upset her any longer.

He threw a lazy grin her way and joked in a loud stage whisper as they came to the stop sign at the end of the parking lot, "I don't know about you but I think I can hear Mart's stomach growling from here."

Her blue eyes warmed at his attempt to make her feel laugh. "We'd better hurry, then. There's no telling what Mart would eat, if he gets hungry enough." Forsaking the air conditioning, she rolled her window down. The wind that swirled her short curls was refreshing, helped her gain a perspective. She sliced a glance back at Dan and pondered if she should tell him about the Wheelers , her forehead wrinkled in concentration. It didn't take more than a few seconds. He had a good ear and was always willing to listen to her, about anything. Plus he had helped put a few things into perspective on the trip to the hospital. And he would be fair, as he always was. He wouldn't condemn or commend. "Hey, Dan?" she began haltingly.

That same red light. For a third time on the same day. What were the chances? Dan rolled his eyes in subdued frustration as he pulled to an idling stop behind it. What horrible, horrible odds. He decided wryly that he wasn't going to be taking his chances in Vegas any time soon. His luck seemed to be running pretty low right now. "What is it, Trix?" he inquired idly, only half-paying attention to her. He couldn't break his fascination with the glaring red of the light. It almost seemed to be mocking him.

She couldn't get the words out at first. Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again before she found the courage to actually speak her question. "Do you ever think that becoming a detective is too dangerous of a profession, for me and for Honey?" Her timing was impeccable. The red light turned to bright green as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

This time, he stalled. Right there, in the middle of the crowded intersection. With three vehicles behind him. Sweat pooled. Nerves starting humming. Another string of vivid, inventive curses and then he had the truck moving, with yet another annoyed driver honking at him in response. "The people around here are going to think I can't drive worth sh…" He didn't finish his rather profane thought when he recalled what Trixie had asked him. Ignoring his own frustrations, he bit out, "Say that again, Trix. What do you mean? What the hell do you mean by it?"

She put her hand out the window, waved it against the continuously blowing wind as they traveled down Main Street, and thought back to the conversation she had overheard. Smoothing back an errant curl that refused to stay put after her third attempt to keep it behind her ear, she began to share what she had overheard. "I really should have learned better by now but, you know me, I couldn't help it. When I went on my walk earlier, right after you and Brian went in to visit Honey, I decided to follow the same course that Jim and his parents had taken."

"Oh, man," Dan grumbled, for the first time really catching on that she hadn't bounced back with the resiliency she was known for after seeing with her own eyes that Honey was fine. "And…?" he prompted when she didn't continue.

"I didn't hear anything when I passed by the waiting room the first time. Jim was inside, telling his parents about Honey's ordeal in the store." She started playing with the seatbelt next while her voice became smaller and she averted her eyes from his sidelong gaze. "I went on my merry way. I didn't stay to listen in or question Jim about it after he was finished. So, about ten minutes later, I came back down the hallway." Her sigh reached all the way into her soul. "I heard plenty that time around."

Her expression confused him. It was forlorn and beaten, two words he would never have associated with one Trixie Belden. Clearing his throat, he patiently urged her on, "What did you hear, Trix?"

Trixie laid her palms on her knees. "I'll set the stage for you, first, then I'll answer your question. The door was half-open, a perfect invitation for someone with my level of curiosity. As much as I wished I had, I couldn't resist the temptation. I stayed out of sight and listened to the Wheelers. Jim wasn't there. He had already left. However, it didn't matter. I managed to catch an earful from his parents."

He pulled into the almost-empty parking lot at Wimpy's and found a spot in the shade. "And what did you hear?" She seemed to need the gentle prod to get her back on track, despite her declaration to answer his question. He expertly parked the truck, cut off the engine, and waited for her to finish.

She unsnapped her seatbelt and responded as casually as she could, "They would prefer it if Honey didn't become a detective." It was the first time she had spoken the sentiment out loud. The words felt foreign to her lips and left a bitter, uncomfortable taste in her mouth.

He dropped back in his seat, sat for a moment, and then remarked as if he had received a stunning blow to his head, "What?" He shook his head to clear it. It didn't help. He could still hear her voice, telling him the last thing he had ever expected to hear. "What did you just say?"

"They think that detective work is too dangerous." She couldn't get worked up about. She couldn't hide behind temper or angry, not this time around. And definitely not today. She couldn't do it because she couldn't alter one undeniable fact. She reluctantly shared it with him, "With Honey lying in the hospital right now, the only thing they can be is right. I think they are planning on talking to Honey about her future plans and soon. They weren't very happy that it happened, especially knowing that it was a criminal that we had already helped to send on his way to jail a few years ago." Her laugh was small, humorless, and devoid of any warmth or mirth. It made her sound much older and defeated.

Perplexed, Dan listened. When she stopped talking, he didn't force her to continue. He knew she was biding her time, collecting her thoughts, while his own were in an uncomfortable heap. Maybe it was naïve of him but he had always expected all seven of the Bob-Whites to follow through on the chosen career choices. He was meant to be a police officer. Mart was meant to study agriculture and then teach it. Brian, of course, was well on his way to becoming a doctor in truth. Jim had three years down already in pursuing the education he needed to help prepare him for the school he planned on opening. Di had chosen art. What she meant to do with it, he didn't have a clue but she would be working somewhere in that field. And Honey and Trixie, best friends in life, were meant to be partners in work. Detectives. He almost couldn't contemplate a future where the plans the seven had made didn't pan out. He didn't voice his feelings. She didn't need his own confusion and bewilderment. She needed his support.

Trixie didn't have a clue as to the thoughts behind the dark eyes of her good friend. "Honey has to make her own choices. I'm not going to force her to study criminal justice with me or get angry with her if…well, if. I mean, I know it's not going to change my mind. I've wanted to become a detective for as long as I can remember and that's what I'm going to do. But what would happen if Honey agrees with her parents?" Therein lay the question that rankled, that added yet another kink to her already terrible day. She brought her confused gaze back to Dan, looking as if she had been blindsided by a Mack truck.

He didn't like seeing the pain in the blue eyes that normally sparkled with happiness. "You adapt," Dan responded roughly, praying that he was giving her the right answer. It was painfully obvious that she needed some direction and some hope. If he could steer her away from any self-doubt or self-recriminations, then he would be satisfied. "You adapt, Trix, and you move on, if that's what Honey wants. You and Honey will always be friends. You know that."

"Adapt?" she murmured, more to herself than to him, not having considered that before. She could do that, she supposed. It wouldn't be that difficult. Honey would still be her best friend, no matter what, even if she chose not to become her partner. One small bubble of pent-up emotion popped, made her feel a little more certain of herself. "Yes. You're right," she breathed out. "Adapt."

Dan touched her shoulder and added sagely, "But if, and this is a big if here, since you haven't had a chance to talk to Honey about any of this, if Honey decides not to go into criminal justice with you at her side, you will still need to do what you feel is right for you. Both you and Honey will have all of the support that you need, for whatever you decide to do." He paused before adding, "It's your life and your choice, Trix. I can't imagine anyone in your life pressuring you or being disappointed in any choices that you make. We all care about you too much."

Trixie mulled over his reasoning, decided that he had made some very valid points, and then nodded once in curt acceptance. "To borrow a Mart word, I am doing a lot of suppositions here, aren't I?"

"Not sure what 'suppositions' means but you could be making a few assumptions that may not be necessary." Dan finally succeeded in opening his door. Before he vacated the vehicle, he advised, "My advice to you is to share your feelings with Honey. You'll have to wait, though. I know it will probably just about kill you to wait but you can't bring this up to her, not until her parents have had a chance to talk to her about it first. Who knows?" Dan said with a roll of his athletic shoulders. "Maybe they will reconsider and not mention it to Honey at all or maybe Honey will simply tell them no. There's no need to get upset now, Trixie."

"Does it get extremely boring, being right all the time?" she muttered rhetorically, earning a small chuckle from him. "So, I'm stuck waiting it out. Waiting is awful," Trixie grouched under her breath, making him snort back at her. "I guess I'm preparing myself for the worst here. It wouldn't be as much fun without her." Her nose wrinkled in disgust.

"You'll think of something else, if it does come to that. I have all the faith in the world in you. We all do," he stressed before jumping to the pavement. "But you can be certain that it won't be the end of the world or the end of your friendship, either, if Honey decides not to go into the detective business with you."

She was surprised at how relieved she felt. Her fears hadn't been appeased in the least but she had a direction and a plan. All she had to do was wait for Honey to talk to her about it. And, she realized fatalistically, if Honey chose not to talk to her about it, she would know the second they started school in the fall. It would be obvious in her choice of college courses. "Thanks a lot, Dan. I appreciate that fact that you heard me out and actually listened to me." She opened the door to jump out.

"Any time, Trixie." He slammed his door and met her on the other side of the truck. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he remembered their talk on the truck ride into the hospital and inquired casually, "Is there anything else going on in that rather fascinating and complex mind of yours?"

She astonished him by declaring, "There may be, especially since you seem to be on a roll right now. Are you up for another session, Dr. Mangan?"

He pocketed the keys and pointed to Mike who was staring at them out of the window. He returned the friendly wave and then suggested easily, "Let's place our orders first, Trix, before Wimpy's closes and we're stuck trying to explain to everyone why we had to scavenge for something else for dinner. It's getting close to closing time at the diner. Mart would have both of our heads if we don't bring back his favorite special."

"Okay." Trixie didn't want to have to face a disappointed and hungry Mart. It wouldn't be pleasant. She led the way into the nearly empty dinner. Three patrons sat at the counter, nursing large mugs of coffee and watching the baseball game on the television set in the corner, while a teenage couple sat in the far corner, oblivious to everything but each other. After greeting Mike and placing their order for six hamburgers with French fries, she joined Dan at the usual Bob-White booth while they waited for the order. She picked a napkin out of the holder. "Honey asked me to tell her what happened back at the store," she stared without preamble.

Dan watched the way she twisted the napkin to within an inch of its life and then started to tear it into tiny, fleck-sized pieces. He couldn't deny it. Something else was definitely bothering her. Arching a dark eyebrow, he mused aloud, well aware of the bond that existed between the two girls, "I suppose you did." In his opinion, there wouldn't have been any other option for Trixie, even though she had been warned by Dr. Ferris, through her brother, not to.

"Yes," Trixie answered and tossed the remains of the napkin down on the table. She grabbed another one and started to slowly and methodically shred it, too. "Honey wanted to know. I told her what I could, which isn't that much, anyway. I couldn't tell her everything that had occurred, only what I know. I couldn't even tell her how she hit her head in the first place."

"You had to tell her." He didn't need a lot of imagination to put the scene together in his mind. He could actually see the desperate pleading on Honey's face. Trixie would never have been able to resist it. "Did…ah…did someone find out that you talked to Honey about the store?" Dan put the question out there carefully, although he already knew the answer. Trixie wouldn't have brought it up if she had been able to keep the matter between her and Honey. There had been two people who entered the room after Trixie went in to see Honey. He somehow doubted that the nurse had taken exception to Trixie's decision.

"I think we have already established that it hasn't been my day, Dan," she responded dryly and with a tiny, choked laugh. "Of course Jim walked in on us while we were talking about it. You had to know that would happen." In the cosmic scheme of things, she supposed she deserved it. "I guess that's what I get for eavesdropping in on his parents."

Her day had been absolutely, positively, almost pitifully horrible. He couldn't imagine a worse day. The unexpected resurgence of an old foe, a hurt friend, a lost job, an overprotective boyfriend, two overheard conversations, one by her and one by Jim, and the existence of a dream that she had always taken for granted suddenly questioned. It sucked. He doubted if Mart could have come up with a better word to define it. Dan was actually quietly astonished that she had chosen him to talk to about it but then he figured that she needed a neutral ear to help air out her frustrations. It was better than keeping it all bottled up until she exploded on Jim or whoever else happened to be around her. "How did he react?"

"I don't think Jim was all that happy with me, especially since he had already asked me not to talk to Honey." She had somehow forgotten her given word, both to him and to Brian, when her friend had pleaded with her to share the truth as she knew it. "But he didn't seem to get too mad at me, either. I think we were about to put it to rest when a nurse interrupted us. She came in to check on Honey so we weren't able to bring it to a conclusion. Then, when we ended back with the large group, he got pulled away by his parents, and here we are. No resolution. Again." That's where it rubbed. They seemed to have hit a place in the past few hours where they were constantly at cross-purposes and potential misunderstandings, without any discussions or sharing of ideas. Her sarcastic roll of the eyes spoke more eloquently about her current state of feelings than an arsenal of words would have been able to do.

At least she had grown and matured enough not to let her annoyances and aggravations burst out of her like she would have when she was a teenager. He had witnessed her temper more than a few times over the years and found himself swamped in pride for the control she was exuding. Dan put his hands on the table and remarked seriously, "My advice to you, Trix, is to talk all of this out with Jim. Soon. Don't let it fester and grow into something ugly between the two of you. You'll have to talk to him about it. Get it out in the open, as soon as you can, and deal with it."

It was the only possible solution. She had already come to the same one. It felt unbearably good to hear it come from someone else's lips, though. "But not at the hospital," Trixie grumbled. "Too many ears and, as much as I hate to admit the fact that Jim is right, it is definitely not the right place." Or time, she added silently. They needed a quiet place and privacy for their talk. They did not need to cast the rest of the Bob-Whites or the entire staff of the hospital as an audience for their conversation. As much as she hated to admit it, she had a feeling it was going to be quite a display of the verbal arts.

Hoping he had brought a little comfort to her, Dan stood up and gestured towards the counter where two large brown bags were waiting for them. "It looks like our food's ready. Let's go grab it and get back to the hospital before Mart has gnawed his way through the furniture in the waiting room."

The image brought a smile to her face, just as he had wanted it to. She thanked Mike and grabbed one of the bags. "It smells delicious," she decided on the walk back to the truck. It had to be a good sign that she was hungry, Trixie thought. Talking out some of her issues had been a good idea, had helped to gain her more of a perspective before she finally had the chance to meet with the person she needed to talk with.

Dan opened the door for her and handed the other bag to her after she was comfortably settled in the cab of the truck. He rounded the hood and was in his seat in a flash. "You have to admit, too, Trix, that this is a hell of a way to celebrate your anniversary," he commented idly after firing up the truck again.

Dismayed, Trixie snapped her head back and then groaned. Loudly. "I had forgotten all about that," she shared, her face a portrait of pure shock. Her disappointment was back, ten-fold. She hung her head, finding it hard to believe that she had forgotten something that vital and important. "With everything that has happened today, I completely forgot about our anniversary." And the plans that Jim had made for them, to spend their special evening together. An image of her pretty blue dress, hanging expectantly in her closet, came quickly to mind, while she added one more dark mark against the day that didn't seem to want to end.

It wouldn't have slipped Jim's mind, Dan realized with blinding insight. That little velvet box with its ring symbolizing a lifetime of promises inside it rose up to taunt him and served as a reminder of Jim's plans for the night. She didn't have a clue, that much was certain, he decided after risking a quick glance at her face. He felt like slamming his head against the steering wheel as a penance for turning himself into an insensitive jerk for bringing up her missed plans. "Sorry, Trix," he offered quietly while he was actually able to drive through that damn intersection for the first time all day without having to wait for it to turn green. "I wasn't thinking there. It's the only excuse I have. I wouldn't have brought it up otherwise."

"I guess that's just the cherry on the distasteful sundae that is my day, isn't it?" She shook her head to the side and then stared out the window, watching the familiar scenery of the town of Sleepyside roll past without really seeing it. Missed anniversary plans. She slowly shook her head and closed her eyes. What else could fate be throwing her way?

It wasn't hard for Dan to realize that she wasn't in a talkative mood anymore. He let her alone, to her thoughts, however dismal they may be, and hoped he could at least give her peace and quiet for them. He concentrated on driving them safely back to the hospital. They made it back in record time. The silence stretched on while he parked the truck. He grabbed a bag while she automatically reached for the other one and they strode together back into the hospital, silent the entire way.

Deciding that moping over a missed anniversary celebration wasn't going to do her any good, especially when her best friend was spending the night in the hospital, Trixie pushed her growing discontent away and actually managed a brave smile for Dan when he pushed the elevator button for her. "So, do you really think Mart has eaten through the furniture yet?" she posed the question lightly, hoping he would see that she was ready to move on.

A delighted grin spread across his face in appreciation. "Only if he couldn't find the vending machines. Snacks, you know. He would have needed a few to tide himself over." He winked, earned a small chuckle from her and waved her into the open elevator.

Trixie thought of vending machines and stifled a groan. "We forgot to get drinks, Dan!" she exclaimed, staring down into her bag filled with large, white containers.

The elevator began its journey to the second floor. "No need to worry about that, Trixie." He waved an absent hand through the air and leaned in conspiratorially, dark eyes gleaming with suppressed humor, "That's not a problem at all. We'll plan it out right now. Mart. It will have to be Mart. Let's make him go and get the drinks from the vending machine. It can be his payment for his food. Can you imagine his face when we give him his job? It will be priceless, Trixie, absolutely priceless."

Another laugh, deeper, rich, and sounding like the most normal one she had made through the long afternoon, rolled up and out of her. It served to announce their arrival as the elevator door swished open and deposited them on the second floor. Brought to a halt, she stopped in surprise when she saw Jim standing before them. "Hi, Jim," she greeted him, the hint of humor still ringing in her voice.

Green eyes sharpened and narrowed while he considered what Dan had said to get her to laugh like that, especially considering the day they were all still going through. Jealousy slashed through him, irrational but true, while he worked hard to keep it from his expression. He wanted to be the one to comfort, to support, to cheer up. He took the bag from Trixie and used it to run interference from his own thoughts, however stupid and ludicrous they may be. Somehow his brain started working again. "Brian mentioned that you two went to get dinner for us. It smells good. Wimpy's, right?"

"Mart's choice, of course," Dan answered cheerfully. He handed Trixie his bag. "We noticed that we forgot to pick up drinks at the diner. We had decided to make Mart go and get them but, since you're here, I'll head down now and pick up a few choices for us. I'll meet you back in the waiting room in a few minutes." He headed back to the elevator, whistling softly the entire way.

After Dan reentered the elevator, she walked besides Jim, starting down the hallway. Many nurses and patients looked on in eye-popping envy at the delicious-smelling food they were carrying. "We forgot the drinks," she repeated needlessly, needing to say something to Jim and unable to come up with anything remotely more interesting. "You know, when we were at the diner."

"I realize that." Jim was glad to have his hands full. He wasn't certain what to do with them, not right now, and cast a sidelong glance towards his girlfriend. She seemed more like her old self, more upbeat and lighthearted, and not as worried or concerned as she had been before he had left the waiting room with his parents. While he had loved hearing the sound of her intoxicating laugh, he couldn't help but wish that he had been the one to help get her to make the joyful sound. "It's good of Dan to go down and get them."

Nodding vaguely, Trixie thought about bringing up their missed anniversary plans but immediately decided against it. With the cross-purposes they had been at during the afternoon and evening, she wasn't certain if it was the right topic to introduce. It seemed better all around if she left it for later. Instead, she settled for a neutral course: Honey. "How did everything go with Dr. Ferris?" she wondered curiously, her head tilted to the side. "Did he have any other news about Honey?"

"She should be able to leave here by noon tomorrow," Jim answered, grateful to think about something else besides his good friend cheering up Trixie. "He also gave us permission to have one person sit in with Honey through the night providing we're quiet and we don't put on the television set. My parents are in with Honey right now. They are going to go home afterwards since they know that we are all going to be here through the night."

Trixie's face brightened at the thought of being able to sit in with Honey. "Oh, that's wonderful," she announced, her curls beginning to bounce with her excitement. Jim couldn't help but notice and answered her smile with one of his. "I didn't dare to even hope that Dr. Ferris would let us do that," Trixie shared gladly.

"My parents think it's a good idea, too. They believe it will help Honey. If she wakes up in the middle of the night, she would see one of us near her. She won't be by herself." While she was so close to resembling her normal self, he could still feel the undercurrents that were swirling beneath the sudden ease of the conversation between them. The need to talk, to share their thoughts and feelings, was continuing to grow, practically right before his eyes. It was too damn bad that they were in a hospital, with their closest friends surrounding them, he thought with a deep frown. He wanted some time alone with her. It was frustrating that he wouldn't be able to have it until much later.

"We'll set up shifts, then." Ever the organizer, Trixie nodded her head decisively. It was the fairest thing to do. Everyone would have a chance to stay with Honey, for the same amount of time, and Honey would not have to be alone, not even for a moment. With that settled, Trixie impulsively put out a hand to stop him from entering the waiting room before she was even aware that she had made the command. The one-word question fell from her lips. "Jim?"

Although her hand was light on his forearm, he felt the touch, all the way through him. He turned, his eyes calm again and back to their normal shade of emerald green. "Yeah, Trix?" His voice was silky soft while he moved a step closer to her. The possibility of a few more minutes, alone and uninterrupted, was tantalizing. He desperately wanted it, seriously needed it.

Just then Mart threw back the door. He took one whiff of the food, sighed with deep appreciation, and hurriedly grabbed the bag out of Trixie's hands. "Food. I thought I smelled it. Thank goodness!" He almost melted with relief and rubbed his hungry stomach for good measure. Half-turning, he yelled into the room, "Our salvation is finally here, everyone! It's time to eat!" He dashed back into the room, ready to divvy out the food.

"What did you want to say, Trix?" Jim murmured as he held open the door into the normal Bob-White chaos that erupted any time food was involved. He watched Mart start to hand out containers to Brian and Di with a flourish before sitting down on one of the chairs and slowly, ever so slowly, start to open his own container. Under normal circumstances, Jim would have grinned at the sight of his friend staring at his dinner with a look of pure idolization on his face before taking the first, delicious bite. But he was preoccupied with the silent blonde besides him. "Trix?" he prompted when she didn't respond.

She wasn't certain why she had wanted to attempt to start sorting out the mess between them. She realized it was most likely because of her discussion with Dan at the diner. Impulsiveness and impetuousness, either two of her best friends or her two worst enemies, had spurred her on. However, she didn't have the luxury of indulging in them right then. It wasn't the right time, not with over half of their friends in the same room. "Nothing. It'll keep," she responded quickly and strode past him, entering the room. "Let's join the others, Jim. We'll talk. Later."


	18. Chapter 18

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Seventeen

While the silvery-gray remains of the night briefly warred with the brilliant reds and pinks of the approaching day, the five friends in the waiting room slept as comfortably as they could. The passing of the night had been slow in the extreme, almost painfully so for all involved. Each Bob-White had gone, one at a time, to visit Honey. The rest had camped out within the confines of the small waiting room, making themselves as comfortable as the furniture would allow. Ever the most dependable one, Brian had managed to pilfer a few blankets and pillows from the nursing staff which helped make the rather uncomfortable assortment of chairs and sofas marginally better for sleep.

Scrubbing a tired hand over his equally tired face, Jim quietly entered the room, ready to send the last of them into Honey's room to finish out the nighttime shifts. It took a moment for his blurry eyes to adjust to the darkened room. Only a hint of light broke through the two tiny windows situated on either side of the large watercolor painting of the Hudson River. Unsurprisingly, he sought out Trixie first. And found her. She was in the same spot she had been when he had left the room, two hours earlier. However, then she had been awake, quietly carrying on a hushed and stilted conversation with Dan, in deference to the sleeping people in the room. At least she had finally been able to fall asleep, the philosophical part of him thought, while he tried not to look too deeply into her present position. The deeper, more emotional part of him wished she had chosen not to sleep.

He focused in on the person next to her. Dan. He had fallen asleep in what had to be an extremely uncomfortable position: sitting straight up, his arms loose at his side, his long legs spread out in front of him, and with his head thrown back against the back cushion. His large body was spread out, taking up a good portion of the sofa. A hospital issue blanket laid half-on, half-off of him, its ends trailing on the tile of the floor. But it wasn't Dan's position that gave him pause or had his eyes flaring with a sudden heat that dramatically contrasted with his fatigue. It was Trixie's.

He didn't need to look back at her, having already committed the sight to memory, but he did anyway. She was curled up against Dan's side, one hand splayed open and resting high on his thigh, the other hugging a pillow to her chest, while her head was tilted to the side, lying on Dan's shoulder. But that wasn't the worst, not for him. It was her face. It reflected utter peace for the first time since the nightmare had started. He watched as her breath came and went in a low, even rhythm, proving that she had finally managed to fall into a deep and much-needed sleep during his stint with Honey. He should have been grateful. She was as exhausted as he was, as they all were, but that tiny, irrational part of him hated the fact that she was resting next to Dan, finding that peace and contentment with him by her side. A tiny voice in his head muttered back that it was a completely innocent act, on both of their parts. A smolder flickered briefly before he extinguished it, a sign of that imbecilic and illogical spurt of jealousy again, the one that had snagged ahold of him and plagued him earlier in the evening. Left with no other recourse, he overlooked it the best that he could. He massaged the strained muscles that tightened his shoulders and chalked up his knee-jerk response to his own overwhelming exhaustion. Turning on his heels, he walked past the slumbering pair to tap Brian on the shoulder.

It took him barely a second to come fully awake. Dark eyes snapped open. He looked straight up at Jim and nodded his head, unwilling to say anything to wake the slumbering crew within the room. Quickly, Brian tossed aside his thin white blanket and hurried towards the door, eager to begin his turn with Honey. His request to volunteer last had been a selfish act on his part. He was hoping that he would be the first one that Honey would see when she woke up. Without even a whispered good-bye or a wave of farewell to his friend, he opened the door and closed it in one fluid motion, his excited footsteps fading on his rapid trek down the hall to Room 234.

If he wasn't so tired he would have found Brian's eagerness to get to Honey amusing. As it was, Jim could feel the weariness straight through him. It seemed to have penetrated beyond his bones, to have settled deep within his soul. He doubted if even a full twenty-four hours of good, solid sleep would truly refresh him. Frowning, he eyed the available space on the sofa next to Trixie, his first choice for a seat. He supposed he could fit there, if he wanted to spend what was rest of the night reclining on the armrest or sitting in her lap. Or he could be really juvenile and wake both her and Dan up. Neither idea appealed to him. Rolling his eyes, he decided that the only adult thing to do was to take over Brian's chair, directly across from Trixie and Dan. Dropping into the seat with the extremely thin padding, he picked the blanket up from the floor, adjusted it around himself, and then thumped his pillow a few times, the only outlet he gave himself for the sudden onslaught of emotions besieging him, before dropping it behind his head. He couldn't find it within him to fall to sleep in spite of the fact that he was in desperate need of it. Instead, he chose to stare straight ahead, watching the blonde curls as they rested against the material of Dan's black shirt.

In the dim early morning light, his eyes took on a far-away look as he recalled what he had hoped to have celebrated last night. To him, it was supposed to have been more than just an anniversary. He suddenly found the ceiling very interesting. He hadn't brought it up to Trixie through the long and endless night, not wanting to remind her of their missed anniversary plans while they were giving Honey the only support that they could, especially when there was always others present in the room with them. "Some night," he grouched discontentedly under his breath; then, he could have kicked himself when Di mumbled something unintelligible in her sleep before turning back into the pillow that was Mart's chest. Jim held himself still while she resumed the normal rise and fall of someone in a restful sleep and then exhaled carefully.

Back to his foiled plans. The night hadn't gone anywhere near the way he had wanted it to. No romantic dinner. No fun conversations. Absolutely no time alone. There hadn't been an ending trip up to Ten Acres where they could have engaged in the delightfully foolish act of plotting out the house that he wanted to build up there sometime in the distant future. A blue farmhouse, he recalled with the tiniest of grins, with all the modern appliances Trixie could ever want. But the grin died a slow and almost painful death when he remembered the worst part of the ruined plans for the anniversary. He stared at her left hand, the one that was ironically enough resting on Dan's thigh. There was no ring residing on it. No ring to symbolize love, hope and a promise to mesh the two of them together for the rest of their lives. Instead, the ring still sat in its box, on the top of his dresser, waiting for her. It was nowhere near where he wanted it to be. His sigh ran deep, ragged, was chock full of disappointment, and made Mart garble lowly in his sleep before Jim decided he was going to have to get it together and be completely quiet or risk waking up everyone in the room.

He should be grateful that everything had turned out as well as it had. The reasonable side of him recognized it. Honey only had a concussion. He and Brian only had minor bruises. The perpetrator was back in jail, where he belonged. The store itself would need some help but that was what insurance was for. It was the emotional aftermath of the events that had turned out to be one hell of a jumbled mess, for him and for Trixie. She was barely talking to him. He knew her well enough to know it wasn't because she didn't have anything to say to him. She had plenty. It was because she was working hard to stay in control because of what she had to say to him, or, more accurately, to ask him. She didn't want to cause a scene, especially within the confines of the hospital or in front of their friends. And he realized that it wasn't anger that drove her. It was worse, far worse. It was hurt.

He deserved it, he couldn't help but think. After all, he had sent her away from the crime scene, even though he was more than aware of the insatiable curiosity that composed her. It didn't matter to her if he truly believed it was for her own peace of mind. His blood still chilled every time he heard that damn voice in the back of his head, telling his sister what his diabolical plans had been for Trixie, the woman that he loved, the woman that Jenner had planned on killing, and in an extremely painful and premeditated way. He didn't think he would ever be able to bring himself to tell it all to Trixie. Closing his eyes, he laid his head against the back of the most uncomfortable chair that had ever been created and slowly began massaging the sides of his temples, where a healthy ache that was brought on by a mixture of stress and fatigue had started to throb.

Pushing her away from the crime scene wasn't enough to cause the jumbled mess that existed between them right now. There was more. Trixie had overlooked his advice, Brian's advice, and Dr. Ferris' order when she told Honey all that she was aware of the incident in the store. While he could certainly understand Trixie's inability to refuse Honey's request, he couldn't help but wish that she had but the bond the two shared ran deep. It was proof that water could be as strong as blood, if not stronger. He couldn't help but wish Trixie had listened to their advice or, at the very least, had waited until Honey was home before clueing her in. About ten minutes after he had entered Honey's room a few hours earlier, she had been caught in the throes of one hell of a nightmare. When she had opened her eyes after he had gently but insistently shaken her awake, he had been right there by her, ready to assist her in any way that he could. With eyes bright with tears and fear, she had gripped his hand so tight it had hurt and had mumbled something about the store and guns. When he had asked if she had remembered, all she had been able to do was give a negative shake of her head. He had soothed her the best that he could, tried to get her calmed down and relaxed while she had softly admitted to him that she should never have asked Trixie to tell her what had happened. It had taken a while but eventually she had fallen back to sleep.

His mind continued to work in its methodical way, ticking off the various cross-purposes that fate seemed to revel in at throwing their way. The next one was ludicrous; made absolutely no sense to him but he couldn't push it aside. Not that he had any reason to be jealous of Dan; even the thought of it was preposterous. However, even knowing that he could never ask for a more trusting or loyal friend than Dan, he couldn't overlook his odd reaction to seeing her with him. First laughing with him easily on the elevator; then watching her cuddled against into him on the sofa. All right, he admitted to himself as he slapped an agitated hand on his thigh. _Cuddled_ may not have been the correct term. She wasn't exactly cuddled into him, not in the same way that Di was with Mart, but she was leaning against him, as if she was unconsciously seeking his support. He hated to admit it but the only person he wanted her to look for support was him. Rather, no, not rather, but extremely chauvinistic, he understood, but it was the truth nonetheless. As he glanced down at his hand, he realized that he had figuratively cut it off, at least for right now. Yet another reason why they needed to talk, as soon as he was mentally capable of it.

Giving up, coming to the conclusion that even attempting sleep was going to be a useless endeavor, he cracked open a blurry eye and stared at her from across the room. The lines on his face softened as he looked only at her. Her nose crinkled as an errant curl fell across her forehead. She unconsciously brushed it away, then murmured something long and low in her sleep. He held his breath and smiled a little when she chose to burrow into the cushion behind her and not against Dan's chest. Then she fell back into the easy pattern of sleep. Now if only she would drop her hand from their friend's thigh…Jim studied the hand, the way it was carelessly splayed out, and suppressed the strongest of groans. A blanket, obviously hers since Dan's was still slightly on him, had slipped off and landed on the floor. He studied the thing, understood that the nice, responsible, reasonable thing to do would be to get up and put it back over the pair. Not a chance in hell, he thought with an inward chuckle.

It was good for her to finally sleep, he mused to himself. She needed it, as did the rest of their friends. She had slept about as much as him throughout the night, which, regrettably, hadn't been much at all. They had spent the first portion of the night eating their dinner and then waiting for their turn to stay with Honey, sitting together on that sofa with the others in the room. All had taken comfort and support from the presence of the others but there hadn't been a lot of conversation, which was odd in itself. The Bob-Whites were hardly ever quiet, not as a whole. He remembered the order Trixie had suggested for visiting Honey, with the others readily agreeing. Di had gone in with Honey right after his parents had left for the night. Then Mart had relieved her, with Dan coming in third and Trixie taking over the fourth spot. He had asked for the second to last after Brian requested to be the very last one in to stay with Honey.

Jim didn't notice the changing of the light as it fell through the windows. It slowly changed from a pearly gray to the brighter, welcoming light of dawn, showing that the day had won the battle for supremacy, as usual. He didn't take his attention off of Trixie, caught in that difficult place where he wanted her to get the sleep that she needed but he also wanted her to wake up, for his own rather selfish reasons. So intent on Trixie, he didn't catch the other pair of blue eyes that slowly opened.

It was never easy for him to come awake. It generally took his annoyingly loud and insistent alarm clock to wake him. It was easier this morning, seeing as how his whole body felt cramped. Something heavy was resting on his chest. He couldn't figure out why the hell he wasn't stretched out on his comfortable bed at home. When he saw his surroundings, recognized them, it all came back to him in a flash. He sat up with a groan. "What…what time is it?" Mart's voice had a groggy edge to it. Sleep didn't want to leave him, not yet. He hadn't had enough of it. Catching the sight of the black head resting against his chest, he hugged her tighter to him and finally understood the pressure against him.

Jim consulted his watch. "It's almost seven o'clock." He pitched his voice low.

Mart stared around the room, calculated the amount of Bob-Whites within and came up with the missing member quickly. "Brian's turn, huh?" he noted.

"Yeah." Jim tossed aside the blanket, which hadn't served any purpose for him at all. It landed in the empty chair next to him. He stretched his legs out as far as they would go. "He should be back any minute. The nurses are going to be starting their morning rounds. I'll bet he'll be kicked out of the room in no time."

Mart glanced around once more. He did a comical double-take when he caught the sight of Trixie and Dan on the sofa. A hand came up to rub his eyes in case he was hallucinating or dreaming. When they stayed on the sofa, he couldn't stop the crooked and mischievous grin from playing its way across his face. "Well, don't they look cute?" he said without thinking, forgetting that his sister's boyfriend was sitting next to him.

'Cute' wasn't how Jim would describe it, wasn't even close to the adjective he would like to use but he chose not to favor Mart with his feelings. He merely grunted in reply and stood up from his chair. He strode over to the window, his feet eating up the tile, and stared out into the morning as it descended onto the small town of Sleepyside.

Mart tried to fight it. He really did but the temptation was too much. His long, delighted chuckle rolled up and out of him, filled the room and made Di stir within his arms. She stared up at him reproachfully, her violet eyes still smudged with sleep. "Sorry," Mart replied contritely to her, smoothing a hand over her head. Di didn't answer. Instead, she turned her head into his hand and closed her eyes, needing a few more minutes of rest, if not actual sleep.

The laugh startled Trixie awake, too. Her eyes popped open while she felt a solid presence against her side. Turning, expecting to see Jim, her expression turned to shock when she found Dan next to her. Instantly awake, her mouth fell open. Then she realized where her hand was, what part of her friend that she was inadvertently touching. She snatched it back swiftly, grateful that her friend had slept through the sound that had snapped her awake and hadn't realized that she had been pressed up against him, and scooted back into the corner of the sofa, putting an acceptable distance between them. Only then did she become aware that others were stirring in the room. First, her gaze collided with the emerald one across the room. The slight blush on her cheeks flamed even brighter when she realized that Jim would have seen her, sleeping next to Dan, and she suppressed a groan. She dropped her gaze quickly, turned to the next person. She saw the smile on her brother's face, correctly catalogued it as one of full mirthful amusement and understood that she had unwittingly given him a ton of future ammunition, which he would be more than likely to fire her way at any given moment, however innocent the act had been. "Good morning," she mumbled out, reaching down to pick the blanket up that was draped across the floor, needing to do something to help block out the sight of her flaming cheeks.

Mart replied first, his voice amazingly gleeful and loud for such an early hour. "Good morning, Trixie!" boomed out of him cheerfully. One arm hugged Di to him tighter when she murmured in response; the other stretched high in the air. With lips twisting with unreleased mirth, he declared, his words taking on a more pointed meaning, "It looks like you had a wonderful night of sleep."

There was no way she was taking that bait. No way. "No, not really," she replied back with forced ease, her features schooled and even. Her brain still felt fuzzy, whether from her appalling lack of sleep or her embarrassment over her position, she couldn't tell. But she understood that she wasn't mentally equipped for any kind of a round with her brother. She would lose it before it even began. She extended her legs out, hoping to get rid of some of the kinks in her muscles, and added grumpily, "It doesn't even feel like I got any sleep last night."

Having caught a glimpse at Jim's face from under half-closed eyelids, Di prevented her boyfriend from replying to that unintentionally leading remark with a well-aimed elbow to the chest. She pushed the curtain of dark hair aside and announced, her voice throatier than normal, "I, for one, am glad that it is finally morning. It means that we should be able to take Honey home."

Before anyone else could answer, the door opened. Brian came through, carefully balancing two carriers filled with drinks. A bottle of orange juice was tucked under his arm. "I thought I would find most of us awake," he remarked to the room at large and stooped over to carefully place the drinks on a small table near the table. "I stopped by the cafeteria on the way up and picked up a few drinks. I went with what I know to be everyone's favorites. Hope you like it."

With surprisingly good reflexes for so early in the morning, Trixie caught the orange juice he tossed her way. "Thanks, Brian," she murmured and ran a finger along the smoothness of her plastic bottle. Not a big fan of coffee, it was her preferred morning drink but, with the unsettling assortment of emotion still pooling around in her stomach, she wasn't brave enough to attempt to drink it. Not yet. Pursing her lips, she glanced as unobtrusively as she could towards Jim but only caught his profile. Frustrated because she couldn't get a better look, she settled deeper into the corner.

Mart sniffed his coffee. "Hmm," he hummed, clearly in pleasure. "Black and strong, just the way I like it." He clapped Brian on the shoulder. "Have I mentioned that you are my favorite sibling?"

The edge of one lip tipped up. "I doubt it will be 'just the way you like it,'" Brian quipped back. "This isn't our kitchen at Crabapple Farm. Moms didn't brew it." He held the next container out to Jim.

On silent feet, Jim moved across the room and accepted his cup with a nod. He silently added in his one creamer. The smell of the coffee was invigorating, helped chase away the ghosts of fatigue misting in his mind. He swirled the cup around and slid what he hoped was an inconspicuous glance towards Trixie, who was intently studying the juice bottle in her hand. He opened his mouth, then closed it, unable to come up with anything to say in front of their friends.

"Thanks for the tea." Di smiled her appreciation at Brian. In complete agreement with Trixie, coffee did not appeal to her in the least. Cupping both hands around her container, she took a tiny sip and then sighed in pure contentment. "It's perfect, Brian."

"It's hard to mess up tea. How does the coffee taste?" Brian hadn't been brave enough to try it yet. He glanced down at his, smelled the strength of the brew, and repressed a shudder. Its smell alone should be able to tear the paint off the walls or put a hole in their stomachs. He couldn't imagine what the taste of it would be like and wasn't brave enough yet to try it.

Mart gamely took a large swallow before his eyes doubled in size and one started to tear. Coughing, he slapped the cup back down on the table and announced through a muffled voice, "No wonder they serve this here in the hospital. It has to make it easier on the doctors. It's probably responsible for half of the patients that have been admitted here."

"That good?" Trixie tried to wipe off her grin at her brother's obvious discomfort but she couldn't do it, not completely, and felt a gurgle of laughter trill out of her.

"Oh, it's good," Mart remarked affably, with a toss of his head. "If you like to drink sludge." Contrary to his words, he tentatively took another sip and then nodded sagely. "I must admit that the second time isn't as quite as bad as the first. It does get a little better. Minutely better, I need to tell you, but better." Smacking his lips, he added, "It must be an acquired taste."

Trixie's answering laugh mixed with Brian's and Di's but was quickly curtailed when she noticed that Jim hadn't joined in their laughter. Surprised, she inclined her head to the side and studied him over the rim of her juice. She was once again at a loss on how to read him. He merely sipped his coffee. When their eyes finally met, he returned her stare with an enigmatic one of his own.

"What are we going to do for the next few hours?" Di wondered aloud after another fortifying sip of her tea. "Honey won't be able to be released until lunchtime. Will we be able to visit Honey now?"

"No. Not for a while. The nurse was with her when I left. Visiting hours don't start up again until nine. She pointed that out to me," Brian shared after settling back into a chair. A familiar sound came from the vicinity of a very famous stomach. He arched an eyebrow at his brother and declared, "But I think your boyfriend just answered your question, Di. It seems to me that we have something more pressing to see to."

The last of the group to awake, Dan covered his ears and complained loudly, "Don't tell me. Has Mart suddenly become my alarm clock? Was the melodious sound that woke me up his growling stomach?" Swallowing a chuckle, he accepted the coffee from Brian without thinking and took a good, healthy swallow, only to draw back and stare at the cup in complete and total shock. "What the hell did you give me? It tastes awful."

"Hospital coffee," Brian answered with a merry twinkle to his eyes. "You'll have to get used to it, Dan. From what I understand, hospital coffee is only a slight step above from the stuff they serve in police stations and precincts."

Mart overlooked the chuckles from his brother and girlfriend and leveled a glare at Dan. "Hey, you've got to overlook my stomach. It's got a mind of its own. Plus it's been forever since we ate that delicious dinner that you and Trix brought back for us from Wimpy's." The remnants had been respectfully placed in the trash can in the room. He stood up from the sofa he had shared with Di and felt all sorts of aches and pains from his night of sleep. When he stared down at his girlfriend, he admitted to himself that he didn't mind them. After all, he had been able to spend an entire night, sleeping with Di next to him, on a sofa. It sounded like heaven to him. Too bad it had been in a hospital. With the caffeine beginning to vibrate through his veins, Mart mentioned, "I think I remember my sibling saying something about an open cafeteria. It sounds good to me. Does anyone care to join me?"

The rest of the Bob-Whites stood up and started towards the door, drinks in hand, with an excited chatter about what they hoped to have for breakfast. Dan's voice could be heard above them all as he cautioned the group to be aware of the food and most of the group out of the room. Trixie hesitated from following the others and stopped a few feet from the door. She waited until Jim was standing right next to her and everyone else had departed. "Good morning," she repeated her greeting again.

He smiled down at her, his earlier annoyance at her sleeping arrangement forgotten but he still couldn't bring himself to ask her how she had slept. "'Morning, Trixie."

Trixie couldn't help but notice the red that marred the whites of his eyes, the dark, purpling shadows underneath, and the stubble beginning to show on his normally clean-shaven face. He looked absolutely, positively exhausted. She had never seen him look that tired before. Anything she hoped to ask dissipated. It wasn't the time. "Did you get any sleep at all?" The question came out before she even knew it had been formed.

He shook his head and bravely took his first swallow of the hospital coffee. "Your brother's right," he said after a moment. "This definitely isn't your mother's coffee." It had to be the worst thing he had ever tasted in his life. The after taste was every bit as powerful as the first sip. Staring down at the cup, he gestured towards the door. "Shall we go?"

The urge to bring up everything that was bothering her was strong came back to her. It was almost too strong to overlook, but, when she caught him stifling a yawn with a freckled hand, she decided not to. He was too tired. And, she admitted as she felt fatigue winding its way through her own limbs, she realized that she was, too. "Yeah. Breakfast sounds good, actually. Let's find the others." Turning, she started through the door, with Jim a few steps behind her.


	19. Chapter 19

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Eighteen

The morning went by quickly, in direct contrast to the passing of the previous night. Phone calls were made to parents, updating them on Honey's progress and the plans for the day. In need of something more constructive to do, Mart and Di volunteered and were dispatched to the Manor House to pick up fresh clothes for Honey while the others were able to visit with her, breaking another set of hospital rules. Towards noon, Dr. Ferris came in, kicked the entire lot of them out, and then checked Honey over one last time. Before they knew it, Dr. Ferris had completed the paperwork and the Bob-Whites found themselves out on the sidewalk, a super seven once again, and ready to finally return to their homes and, more importantly, to their beds. Every single one of them looked as rough as the night they had spent. Rumpled clothes, fatigued faces, blurry eyes. Honey herself was under strict orders to rest and to not overdo it. Her parents had insisted that her brother drive her home, alone, with no one allowed to visit the Manor House until after Honey had had a chance to take an extended nap. They had assured the Bob-Whites that the evening would be fine for visits but not before.

"We'll see you later," Trixie said, blinking back a few sentimental tears. She gave Honey another quick embrace, then stepped back and hugged her arms around her body. "I'll stop up and see you just as soon as I'm allowed to."

"You do that," Honey mumbled back, her eyes stinging with her own unshed tears. She turned to Dan next, hugged him and then the rest of their friends. She lingered just a tad overlong with Brian, much to the amusement of a few of their friends, and then moved back. Her watery smile encompassed them all while a fresh set of tears sparkled brilliantly in her eyes. "Thanks, so much, everyone. I'm so happy that you stayed here with me last night." The look of gratitude she shared touched them all of them.

Having spoken only a few words all morning, Jim nodded to the small group in lieu of talking. "It's time to go, Honey," he murmured to her when she didn't seem to want to leave their friends.

Honey gave a small, helpless laugh and waved her hands. "I know, I know. I don't want to leave, though." Her hazel eyes were filled with love for them, for her friends, for her own support system. She hadn't been surprised that they had spent the night at the hospital with her. She had been astonished to find out that one of them had always been by her side, through the dark and lonely night. That mattered, even more, made her beautiful thankful for the bond that existed between the seven of them. She couldn't imagine anything ever snapping that bond. "Come and see me as soon as you can, everyone. I won't be able to leave the house for at least a day. Maybe two." Then she started to dish out another round of hugs to her friends.

Trixie found herself standing next to Jim while Honey and Di both fought and lost a battle with tears through an extended embrace. She hadn't moved, realized he must have sidled up besides her himself. A good sign, she thought and moved a tad bit closer to him. "This could take awhile," she whispered under her breath.

He felt an answering smile tug at his lips. "I know." To hell with it, he thought to himself, uncaring that they were in a parking lot with their friends surrounding them. He snuck an arm around her waist. "Trixie…" he began, only to be interrupted by twin girlish squeals from Honey and Di.

"I know," she quietly replied, somehow knowing that he was going to bring up the need for the long and involved discussion that they needed to have. "But it's not the right time or place again, though, right?" Her words carried the barest hint of sarcasm to them.

"Yeah." His answer was as short as his sigh while his hand tightened on her waist. He pulled her close, close enough to have her curls brush against his chin, and breathed in the scent of her. "I guess it's not. I could also use some sleep, too."

Trixie pressed her hands together, smiling slightly when Honey was embraced again by her oldest brother. It was a sweet sight. For one long, telling second, everything the two felt for each other was revealed on their faces. "Tell me about it," she agreed with a roll of her eyes. "I'll be up to visit Honey later. I'll probably catch you then."

"Sounds good." It was the most productive conversation they had managed to have in a while. Jim gave her a hug and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. "I'll see you then, Trixie."

"See you then," she repeated softly and touched a hand to her forehead after he turned away. She could still feel the touch of his lips there, even as he was taking Honey by the elbow and starting to lead her away from the group. Trixie watched until Jim and Honey made it to his Jeep. With Mart depositing Di at her house and Dan on his way to the cabin, she went with Brian, her willing chauffeur, towards his car.

Jim opened the passenger door and competently ushered her inside. He held onto the door while she settled herself on the plush seat. "Do you need help with your seatbelt, Honey?" he inquired and stared out at her through intense green eyes. He studied her face carefully, looking for any signs that she was in pain or had pushed herself too hard during the farewells and the short walk to his Jeep.

Honey didn't shake her head. She knew better. The ache was still there, not as prominent as it had been before but she doubted if she would be rid of it anytime soon. The dull throb promised to be with her for a long, long time. She only hoped that her promised nap would help ease it away. "I can do it myself, Jim. I'm not an invalid." Proving her point with the elegance she had been born with, she snapped the belt and then pasted a cheerful smile on her face. She waved as Trixie and Brian walked them, in the direction of Brian's car, only a few parking spaces away. "I didn't want to say it in front of everyone else. I didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings or make anyone feel bad. I really wanted Trixie to ride with us," she noted, a little unhappily. Her face fell with the spoken desire when she saw her friend climb into the front seat of the car more than a stone's throw away.

He wanted that, too. "You know she wanted to," Jim answered simply. "I could see it on her face, too. She didn't want to leave you alone, either. But our parents want you to sleep, Honey. And you know that you need it. You can't have any visitors until you have a nice, long nap."

"She looks tired, too." Normally Trixie sparkled with a liveliness and verve that was catching. It had been absent all morning. Honey attributed it to the purple smudges under Trixie's eyes, doubted if her friend had managed to sleep at all last night. Then she noticed the same ones under Jim's; only they were darker and even more pronounced. Neither Jim or Trixie had slept much, that much she was certain of. While it cheered her to realize that they cared that much for her to have been so affected by her stay in the hospital, Honey couldn't help but wish that it hadn't have been necessary. Competent fingers touched the shadows that she knew to be under her own eyes, too. "I'm tired, too," she reluctantly admitted. "Mother and Daddy are right. If Trixie had driven home with us, I wouldn't have wanted to rest. We would have spent the entire car ride talking and maybe even laughing, if we could have found something funny to talk about. When we got to our house, I wouldn't have been able to let her go home. I would have talked her into coming up to my room, where we would have ended up talking even more. Neither one of us would have rested at all."

"Give it a few hours. Trixie will be up to visit you after both of you have napped." Jim didn't share that he and Trixie had already made tentative plans, for which he was extremely grateful. He wanted to see her. He needed to see her. They needed to talk, to clear the air. He knew he had an explanation to give her, as well as an apology of his own to make. Swallowing a sigh, he came to the realization that they hadn't set a time to see each other. After he shrugged a shoulder, he deiced that if she hadn't shown up to the Manor House by dinnertime, he would hurry down to Crabapple Farm to catch her before she did. They had to get things settled between them.

Honey leaned back, found the headrest of the seat oddly comfortable, and felt a sigh work its way out and over her. Closing her eyes against the bright white of the thickening clouds above them, showing them the promise of the upcoming storm that would hopefully snap the heat wave, she shared in a tiny voice, "It seems like forever since I've been home. I can't believe it's only been a little under twenty-four hours since I went to work at the store." Through a half-opened eye, she saw the time on the digital clock and fought the urge to sigh again. "It's almost one o'clock. How on earth did so much happen in one day?"

There wasn't a need to answer the question. It was rhetorical; stated more to help Honey alleviate some of her own feelings on the horrors of the previous day than anything else. Jim understood it. He didn't respond. The silence gathered on between them as he pulled out of the parking lot and started down the street, two cars behind Brian. Old familiar buildings passed by. He didn't take notice of them. When he felt the fatigue want to take over, he concentrated on keeping his eyes wide open and on his driving. Talking would be a great way to help keep him alert. "Did you know that Mr. Lytell fired Trixie?"

"Mr. Lytell did what?" Startled, Honey started forward. She jerked her head too fast, felt the ache turn into more of a pound, and then carefully replaced her head on the cushion. Keeping her eyes tightly closed, she let the gentle motion of the car lull her back into some semblance of control and comfort while she felt horrible for her friend. "I don't know why I should be surprised. Of course he fired her. He wouldn't do anything less, the jerk. He probably thinks it's all her fault. Poor Trix." Her lips pulled back into an uncharacteristic frown. With her hands folded neatly in her lap, she declared fiercely, "Well, that's it, then. I know I'm never going to step back into that store again, no matter what. Mr. Lytell has certainly lost my business, as well as the staff's from the Manor House." She would personally make certain of it.

Jim felt an actual smile spread across his face. It had seemed like a long time since a full one had graced him. Her indignant response was endearing; proof of how much she loved and supported her friend. "I'm with you there, Honey. So will a good many of Mr. Lytell's former customers. From what I understand, Dan's organizing a boycott. I'm sure he could use an assistant like you to help him out."

"Good for him and I'll gladly take that job." Honey brought a hand up to brush aside a wayward strand of hair. She was unintentionally drawn to the small wound on her forehead. She had seen it that morning, reflected in the mirror of her small bathroom in the hospital. As Trixie had said, it hadn't been that bad. The wound was relatively tiny; wouldn't leave much of a scare at all. The bruising around it would fade, as would the slight swelling. All in all, it wasn't bad. It could have been much worse. The thought of the gun told her how much worse it could have been. Honey cleared her throat, hoping to chase away her thoughts, and said, "Although I must say that I doubt I would ever have gone back into that store, anyway. It carries a few too many bad memories for me…even though I can't actually remember anything about it!" Her laugh held a twinge of hysteria to it.

In vivid response, Jim's fingers gripped the steering wheel. He knew. He could fill a good portion of it in for her, should he choose to do so. Studying the alarming white of her face, he didn't do that, doubted if he ever would. "Don't think about it, Honey," he advised her softly. "Don't. Leave it alone."

She let her hands fall to her side, praying that she would be able to take his advice to heart. "I don't think I will think about it. I don't need to, not anymore. Trixie told me all that I really needed to know, anyway. I can always count on Trixie to help me with whatever I need. You know that, though. You can always count on her, too."

Those words, spoken so innocently, made his grip on the steering wheel even tighter. He hadn't been able to count on her last night, not when he had asked her not to tell Honey. What she had told Honey had given her one hell of a nightmare. Jim didn't speak that aloud or contradict her. The subject was still a little sore for him, although he had to admit that she was right. Honey could always count on Trixie. And Trixie wouldn't be able to stop helping her, not even if it went against the wishes of others. He felt like he was on some damn rollercoaster, where he kept coming back to the same exact spot. Swallowing a grunt, he concluded that the only way to get off the ride was to talk to Trixie. And soon. It would have to be soon, before he went insane.

He caught the tilt of her head, the odd look in her hazel eyes as she wondered why he didn't respond to her. Ignoring the topic of the moment, Jim grasped for another acceptable one. "Mom and Dad can't wait to see you. They are very excited to have you home. I talked to them again to give them an approximate arrival time while Dr. Ferris was completing your paperwork. They want you home as soon as possible, Honey."

Her hands stilled and then fisted at the mention of their parents. Honey debated about bringing up a subject she had heard her parents discuss while she had been in her room, pretending to be asleep. Ever so slowly, she turned her head towards her brother, decided that he would make a great listener and would be able to give her useful advice. She needed useful advice right now. Her headache wasn't only from the result of her concussion. A good bit of stress was mixed in with it, too. She spoke haltingly, her voice gaining strength as she continued on, "Do you know I heard something…unexpected from Mother and Daddy last night when they were in my room?"

In the process of creating yet another list of the many items that he needed to discuss with Trixie, Jim reluctantly pulled his mind away from the thoughts of his blonde girlfriend and inquired, only listening with half an ear, "What's that, Honey?"

Honey could still hear the soft, murmured words, even now, after a full night and a busy morning in the hospital. The words had become an ingrained part of her, had ruthlessly torn into a dream that she had planned on making a reality for as long as she had known Trixie. A manicured finger began to tap out a rhythm on her knee. She forced her eyes to stay open and began at the beginning. "Mother and Daddy were talking in my room, shortly before they left last night. They must have woken me up but I didn't let them know I was awake because I didn't want them to know that. It seemed better, you know, all around. I wanted to hear what they were saying, if you know what I mean, but I didn't want them to know that I was listening in on them, so I pretended to still be asleep."

He supposed Honey really was going to be fine if she was starting to ramble on again in what he considered her characteristic and jumbled way of speaking, a skill she fell back on whenever she was excited or nervous. About to tease her, he cut down on the impulse when he noticed a small, sparkling tear trace its way down her cheek. He gentled his voice but didn't mention the tear. She wouldn't want him to. He understood pride. It was deeply rooted within him. Keeping his gaze trained on the blacktop of the road, he pitched his voice low and asked, "What did they say, Honey?"

Upset with the tear and the urge to cry, she hastily brushed it aside and pretended that it had never existed. "They, ah, they were talking about college," she answered past the thick lump of emotion lodged in her throat. She doubted if she would ever be able to pry it out.

"College?" His mouth twisted while he contemplated why that would upset her so much. "That's all? Nothing else?"

"No." Her answer was short, clipped and in a bitter tone he had never heard her use before, would never have guessed that she had been capable of making. She would have stomped her foot if she had been standing up and if she had the strength for the action. As it was, she settled for angrily flicking the dangling air freshener. She watched, fascinated, as it swooped back and forth like an aromatic pendulum until it managed to stay nearly still. "No, it's not just college, Jim. They were discussing my plans for college."

"NYU. Criminal justice." His answers were concise and bordered on confused. Lines of worry formed on his forehead. He simply couldn't figure out where she was leading him, in her roundabout way. If he had been sharper and his brain hadn't been hampered by the overwhelming need for sleep, he may have been able to come up with the correct answer on his own. As it was, he didn't have a trace of a suspicion. When Honey didn't respond, he clarified, "Isn't that right?"

She shook her head as delicately as she could manage. When there weren't any side effects in response to the motion, she announced defeatedly, her voice barely above a whisper, "NYU, yes. Criminal justice, no."

Stunned, he almost swerved into the other lane. Barely biting back the mild profanity that sprang to his lips, he got the vehicle back on track and glanced in the rearview mirror. Thankful that no one had been behind them to witness his shoddy driving, he shot back rougher than he intended, "What? What did you just say, Honey?"

"You heard me." She didn't want to say it again. It felt worse when she had put it into words. "I don't think they want me to pursue a major in criminal justice." She sounded hollow and almost beaten. Then she interrupted herself with a harsh little laugh. "No, I have to take that back. I don't just think it, Jim. I know it. I know for certain that they don't want me to pursue criminal justice. I know with one hundred percent certainty that they don't want me in that profession at all."

If he could have pulled the car to a complete and total stop, right there in the middle of the road, he would have. As it was, he was pathetically thankful that the car seemed to know how to travel down Glen Road without his help. He seriously doubted if he was steering it, not with his mind on the conversation he was sharing with his sister. "Tell me more, Honey," he encouraged evenly, not allowing any emotions to reach his voice.

"I'm going to have to talk to them about it soon," Honey continued on, as if she hadn't heard him. Her hands weren't resting now; they were fisted by her hips. "I'm going to have to talk to them about their feelings and their beliefs. I'm not looking forward to it. They sounded pretty sure of themselves. They don't want me in criminal justice. Not only that, but they definitely don't want me to become a detective once I graduate from college."

"Why?" He figured he must be more tired than he thought. Never had he ever considered the possibility of his sister or Trixie doing anything but detective work. Ever. It was a natural extension of the two, seemed to be what the two were born to do. Together. It was a settled matter, the same as his idea to open his own school or Brian becoming a doctor.

She had to laugh. It was forced and a bit ugly but it qualified as one, she guessed. She jabbed a long, aristocratic finger topped with clear polish at the wound on her head and prodded him not-so-gently, "Come on, Jim. You've got to be more tired than I thought if you haven't figured out the why of it yet. Think."

"They believe it's too dangerous," he surmised quietly. Of course, they would think it was too dangerous. Their cherished and only daughter had spent the entire night in the hospital. Not for the first time. Plus there were all the other times where a trip to the hospital could have happened but hadn't, where fate, luck and God above had managed to work together to keep Honey safe through countless perilous adventures. What else could they possibly think? Jim wished his brain was functioning on a level higher than automatic right now. He couldn't come up with any other response to give her. He certainly couldn't wipe the despondent look off her face.

Honey bit her bottom lip. The seed her parents had unintentionally planted was growing in her mind, gaining more force than she had ever thought it would be capable of. She was smart enough to know that if they had brought the subject up to her a few days ago, she would have politely and respectfully listened to them and then ignored it. But after yesterday…she didn't know what to do, not now. She didn't know what was right, what was best, if the two were one and the same or if they were conflicted. "Do you think they are right?" Her tone carried just enough of a question to have him stare strangely at her.

"It doesn't matter what I think, Honey. It doesn't," he answered steadily. "Your opinion matters here, Honey. No one else's." He took a deep breath, wasn't certain himself what answer he wanted her to give, and repeated the question she had given him, "Do you think they are right, Honey?"

Honey fluttered her hands helplessly. She watched up ahead as Brian turned into the driveway to Crabapple Farm and thought about her best friend, sitting in his front seat only a few yards away from them, and then sighed deeply and dejectedly. "I don't know what I think right now, Jim. I really don't." And that was the killer. She had never doubted her dreams before, had never even been inclined to do so. But now…

Understanding came, sharpened, while the emerald of his eyes began to glint with worry for the same person they were now thinking of. "Trixie," hitched out of him. "You're worried about Trixie. You don't want to disappoint her." Or hurt her. He was careful not to put that thought into words. If Honey was thinking what he thought she was thinking, it would hurt Trixie. Dreadfully so.

Honey closed her eyes, her strength nearly gone. She felt bone-weary and wanted the comfort of her own bed. If she tried hard enough, she could almost convince herself that the front seat was her bed. "Our parents gave me something to contemplate, whether I wanted to or not," she responded diplomatically. "I can't come to a decision right now. I simply can't." Although she was terribly afraid she already had made one, one that she couldn't put into words yet, and one that she wasn't yet ready to share with anyone.

Jim reached over the console, laid a comforting hand on top of hers. "Talk to Trixie," he advised her strongly, reading her like an open book. What a hell of a mess ran through his head once again. "She doesn't do well with surprises. You know that. Keep it out in the open with her. She'll respect that, no matter what you have to tell her. She won't like it if you don't." He could have continued on but he was forced to stop. He hadn't been very good at following his own advice, he realized with chagrin, and wondered how much of a muddle he had created through what he perceived as his own good intentions. The conversation he intended to have with her was going to be a long one, indeed, he realized with a fatalistic sigh.

"I will. I need to talk to her about it, especially if…" Honey didn't finish the thought. She couldn't, not yet. Her hand covered her wound once again while she contemplated the black fog that covered the minutes where she had been given the wound. Her decision would have far-reaching effects. When she saw the dark green mailbox with the Wheeler name emblazoned atop it in gold, gilded letter at the end of their long driveway, she felt a huge sense of relief, more than willing to put it off. There was only one thing she wanted to concentrate on at the moment. "Right now all I want is my home, my room. I want my soft, comfortable, familiar bed. I want a nap, Jim. A long, long, long nap."

It sounded good to him, considering the fact the amount of sleep he had managed to catch couldn't fit on the head of a pin. "Count me in, Honey. I'm with you there."

Before Jim could stop the car, she placed a tentative hand on his arm. "Jim, you won't say anything to anyone about this, will you?" Her hazel eyes looked large in her face, taking up most of it.

"I won't talk to Trixie about it," he answered, understanding exactly what Honey was asking of him. Pointing to the wide front porch where the Wheelers stood together, with their arms wrapped around each other for support, he announced, "Our parents are waiting for you, Honey. Let's go in."

In his room a few minutes later after depositing his sister into the tender care of their parents, Jim trudged over to his dresser and emptied his pockets. His keys were first. His wallet and cell phone came next. Normally he was more fastidious with their placement. Today, he simply didn't care. He was too damn tired. When he glanced down, he saw the velvet box. It mocked him, almost as if it was chastising him for not being able to complete his plans for the night before. Forgetting about the need to charge his phone, which was in dire need of it, he picked up the box, carried it over towards his window and flicked it open. The diamond winked brightly back at him, exactly as he had expected it to. Although he couldn't see her house, he glanced in the direction of the hollow, accurately picturing Trixie in his mind. He imagined she had finished greeting her parents, pushed off the delicious lunch her mother had made, and was in the process of crawling into her own bed for some much-needed R&R. It sounded like a great idea to him. Snapping the box closed, he put it on his nightstand, and wearily flopped down on his bed. He was asleep the second after his head hit the pillow. No dreams, good or bad, came to him. He slept like the dead. All his tired body wanted to do was recuperate.


	20. Chapter 20

**Breakaway **

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Nineteen

Trixie felt refreshingly refreshed after her long nap and the delicious dinner her mother had put together without the aid of any of her children. Her father had thoughtfully offered to clean up and wash the dishes and had even volunteered, or, more accurately, roped Bobby into helping him dry them, which gave her, as well as her two older brothers, the evening off from any more chores. She knew Mart was on his way to Regan's apartment above the stables to spend the evening with Dan and Regan. She wasn't certain what Brian had planned for the rest of the evening. Maybe a trip up to the Manor House, too, she thought with a small giggle, only he wouldn't be stopping in to visit Mart, Dan and Regan. She called back into the house to let her parents know where she was going and then stepped out onto the back porch. The wind forcefully snatched the screen door from her hand; was responsible for the loud bang that had her mother yelling back at her in dismay.

Chuckling to herself, she settled the screen door with a proper snap, and then stepped down onto the step her father had repaired yesterday. Looking heavenward, she grimaced and prayed that the storm Dan had promised her the evening before wouldn't come until after she had made it to the Manor House. The only thing that could bring down the burgeoning return of her normal spirits were the dark, foreboding clouds that were hanging low and threatening within the sky. Ominous and gray. A cooling wind partnered them, began to pick up with a force to match the menacing promise of the clouds. She shivered when it blew past her, taking up the edges of her curls and sending them in a wild, untamed dance around her face. The coolness was a relief in comparison to the stuffiness of the heat but she wondered at the cost. Staring out towards the old orchard, filled to the brim with many old, gnarled and beloved trees, she hoped it wouldn't cost too much.

Her legs ate up the worn path made up of stones, browned leaves, and dusty dirt. It took her into the woods and on an unexpected detour, one where she hoped to get her own thoughts in order, and towards the clubhouse. It was a path she had traveled too many times to count. She had to know every rock, every stone, every twig, and every dip and turn in the path. When she neared the clubhouse, she came to a pause and studied the small building. The seven of them had each contributed, had each worked hard to turn an old, ramshackle, ancient building into a warm and inviting clubhouse, a place that hadn't simply held their club meetings or their possessions. It was more than that. It was a symbol. It stood for the love, respect and admiration they had for each other. It had witnessed the good and the bad, the highs and the lows of their group, from disagreements and hardships to the triumphs that had been shared inside. It had even seen a few tears, hers as well as some of the others. It was a special place for the seven of them. Caught in her thoughts, it took a while before the sounds of crunching stone under footprints penetrated through her preoccupation. She turned from her study of the cheerful building with Honey-made curtains adorning the windows, a thoughtful expression on her face.

A figure, one that she could have recognized with her eyes closed, came to a sudden stop on the other end of the path. Dark green shirt; khaki shorts; a shock of unmistakable red hair on the top of his head. With one hand on her hip, Trixie stood by the doorway and lifted the other in greeting. She didn't move; she waited for Jim to approach her. An eyebrow arched when she saw how cautiously he came towards her. For some reason that delighted her, showed her that he was more than aware that she wasn't entirely too pleased with him at the moment. "Hello, Jim," she greeted him, rocking back on her heels. She caught the curls that the wind wanted to snatch away from her and tucked them behind her ears. A useless endeavor since they only managed to tumble across her forehead, where the wind picked them up and teased them again.

The seconds had ticked away on the clock on the stately and impressive marble fireplace in the living room. He had watched every tock it made, under the watchful eyes of his parents and his sister, until he hadn't been able to wait another moment. He had mumbled quick farewells to his family, ignored their questions about why he wanted to head out into what promised to be a formidable storm, and had only offered a garbled excuse in lieu of what he was really going to do. He had practically flown out of the door, on his way down to the house nestled in the hollow. He had decided at the last moment to take the longer route and had headed towards the clubhouse, coming to the conclusion that he needed the extra time to help him plan out what he wanted to say. And there she was, looking out at him with indecipherable eyes. He wondered fleetingly if she had the same thought that he had had. His feet slowed. Now that the time was finally here, he didn't know what to say or how to start. Jim stared down into the blue eyes, the eyes that he had unconsciously memorized from the second he had first looked into them on that far-away day when she had stood in front of him in that old mansion. "Hi," he repeated. His hands itched to go out to her but something held him back from reaching. Pride, of course. Cool and comfortable. Instead of reaching, he tucked them neatly into the pockets of his shorts.

The silence continued for a minute while they both analyzed and assessed what needed to be said, what needed to be explained, and even what needed to be accepted, as well as forgiven. Deciding neutral was presently the only way to go, Trixie pointed to the sky. The dark was nearly upon them. The white clouds of the afternoon were gone, replaced with what looked like monstrous thunderheads. "It…it looks like it's finally going to storm."

"That's good. It'll break the heat. We'll finally have some relief from the humidity." Jim could have kicked himself and felt like an idiot. With so much to talk about, so much left unsaid between them, he couldn't believe that they were conversing about the weather. The weather? he asked himself internally and barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Since she was the first to attempt a conversation, he made the next move and took a few more steps towards her. Then he stopped, feet planted, legs spread out, and felt more comfortable with his hands at his hips instead of in his pockets.

"That is good." Wondering what had happened to her brain, she parroted back the same words. Then she gave a helpless sort of laugh, wishing that she was still in possession of that famed courage that allowed her to stare down the barrel of an outlaw's gun. Somehow today was different. When it involved the most important person in her life, it was much, much different. She simply didn't own it, not right now, and certainly not with the simmering stew her complex emotions had been turned into. "It's been too hot recently."

"Yeah, it has." He blew out a breath, decided to put the common topic of conversation to rest, while he watched the wind ripple across her bright blue tank-top. He loved it when she wore blue. It made her eyes, one of her most distinctive features, even more noticeable. While he knew it was silly to focus on her clothes, let alone a favored color, he did both. His voice was even and nearly normal when he informed her, "Honey's doing well. She came down for dinner. She's sitting on the front porch right now, with our parents and Miss Trask. She wanted to watch the storm blow in. It's going to be a good one. You can tell."

"Oh, that's perfectly perfect," she breathed out, borrowing her friend's favorite phrase, and utterly enchanted with picture of Honey sitting on the porch swing, waiting for the storm. Jim's lips tilted up in silent acknowledgement. "Honey must be feeling better if she's already up and about from her room. I'm actually on my way up to see her now. Has anyone else been by yet?" While her words were bright, her tone was cautious. She wasn't beyond buying more time or hiding behind another, safer topic of conversation.

"Di called right before dinner. She wanted to let Honey know that she wouldn't be able to make it over tonight because she has to babysit the twins but she will check in on her tomorrow. Dan popped in a few minutes ago, right after we finished dinner. He's the first Bob-White to visit. He only stayed for a few minutes. He's watching a movie with Regan." **Somehow, right now, it was easier to discuss the ordinary, the mundane, instead of what needed to be said. Jim hooked a thumb into the loop of his shorts and frowned out into the woods. The smell of rain was in the air.**

"Yeah. Dan called down to the house and invited Mart and Brian up to watch the movie, too. Brian decided to stay home. Since Di was busy, Mart accepted. He left for Regan's a few minutes before I did. Did you see him?" Trixie hated the stilted tone of their voices. Their verbal exchange didn't ebb and flow like normal. She could practically touch the effort it took to uphold her part of it.

He felt the oddness, too. But he wasn't ready to dive right in. He could tell by the hesitant smile pinned on her face, by the way she kept drumming her fingers nervously against her thighs, and even by the quick, almost furtive looks she kept sending his way that she didn't want to attack it, either. He watched another breeze whip over, around and through them, saw the way the green leaves rustled before settling uneasily back on the branches, braced for the next wave to hit them. The storm wasn't much of a promise anymore. It was nearly upon them. "No, I didn't see Mart. He's probably already made it to Regan's apartment."

An unusual silence descended upon them. Trixie toed a large gray stone with her sneaker, kicked it out of the way, and then shared, "I finally got some sleep. I napped the second we got home and slept for just about ever, it seems. I was the last to get up. Moms already had dinner ready. It felt good to sleep in my own bed. I must have been more exhausted than I had thought I was. How about you? Did you rest?" She inclined her head to the side and waited for his answer.

Possibly the worst topic of conversation she could have introduced. An image of Trixie sleeping next to Dan, with her head on his shoulder, on that twice-damned sofa popped into his head. Ridiculous, irrational, and absolutely wrong, but he couldn't prevent the presence of that jealousy again. Maybe he hadn't rested as well as he thought he had. He certainly wasn't as immune to the stupidity of his feelings. Whatever the reason, whatever the trigger, he couldn't get the picture out of his head of Trixie curled up next to someone else. "I seem to remember that you got some sleep last night," he replied while a harsh red started to color his cheeks.

The voice, odd and gravelly, had her snapping her head back and going on the defensive; for what, she had absolutely no idea. "A little bit of sleep, I guess. Not too much." She couldn't understand what he meant and, when she caught a flicker of some strong, unnamed emotion in his eyes, she decided she didn't want to know. Not really. She knew the value of when to push and when not to. He could keep whatever it was to himself.

His answering smirk wasn't for her. It was for him. Berating himself for turning into the ass he now knew himself to be, as well as for getting the conversation off on the wrong foot, Jim dragged a hand through his red hair and tried to start over. "I took a nap, too," he shared belatedly. "It was the first time I really slept in over twenty-four hours. I only caught a bit of sleep here or there in the waiting room last night. The chairs weren't all that comfortable. It was a very long night."

"Tell me about it." Trixie exhaled slowly and jumped, startled, when the first sound of thunder cracked out some distance away.

The coming storm echoed his mood; strong, unpredictable, and volatile. He actually welcomed the next bout of wind, the next roll of thunder, and watched with interest as a streak of lightning flashed far off in the distance. His irritation came out in his poorly chosen words. "I suppose I owe you an apology for pushing you away from the store yesterday." It wasn't the exact wording he had planned on saying, not even the exact sentiment came through.

"Well, that sounded sincere. It's not the best apology I've ever received. I think I've had better ones from Mart," Trixie replied acerbically, her lips in a tight, thin line. She inclined her head to the side, her brow furrowed. Getting into the spirit of the way it was phrased, she didn't accept it, only stared back at him owlishly to see what he would say next. "I'm waiting," she said when he didn't say anything.

All right, he felt like an idiot. A stupid, bumbling idiot. Jim refused to shake his head or to profusely apologize for his mistake. With a shrug of a shoulder, he said, "What I meant to say was that I am sorry I made you leave yesterday." And it was exactly what he had meant to say. However, he had a strong feeling that he had besmirched the sentiment with his abrupt and ill-thought out apology of a few seconds earlier.

"That's a little better." The stress she had hoped she had left behind on her twin bed at home was back, was heard in the depth of her sigh and seen in the stubborn set of her shoulders and the stiffness of her back. Returning the favor, she accepted the apology with the same amount of energy and enthusiasm it had been presented with, "I guess I'll accept the second one."

They weren't getting anywhere, other than poking at each other's tempers. Jim took a healthy step backward, both literally and figuratively, and tried to come up with some way of beginning their discussion without making it seem like some kind of a kingly decree from him. When he saw the sky above them, he noticed that it was now more of a silvery black than a gray. "It might be best to get inside," he suggested carefully, not wanting her to think that he was trying to order her around again. "Clubhouse or home?"

She saw the sky, thought he was probably right, but had an apology of her own to give before they either continued their talk or carried it inside. Nodding her head, she decided that she would do it with a little more grace than he had given her. Taking a deep breath, she said sincerely, "I'm sorry that I told Honey about what happened in the store."

"It's all right, Trix. I can empathize with you. You couldn't help it. She asked. You wouldn't have been able to refuse." Jim's words were murmured, soft and surprisingly understanding. After the ride home with Honey, he wasn't holding any more resentment towards her over that one incident. Remembering what Honey had told him and had more than insinuated about her future as a private detective, he reached out and ran a finger down Trixie's cheek, offering her comfort for something he didn't think she even knew she may need.

And he accepted her apology better than she had accepted his. She felt immensely cheered by that fact and turned her cheek into his hand. Trixie's head bobbed up and down as she added without thinking, absolutely having no idea that her words were going to rouse his temper in the worst possible way, "Yes. You're right. That's exactly what Dan said when I mentioned it to him last night. I couldn't refuse to answer Honey's question, even though you had asked me not to. I couldn't." She turned away, looked up at the threatening swirl of clouds above them. "And you're right about the sky, too. It looks like we're going to have quite a storm. We probably should be starting home, like you said. My house or yours?" Her foot was poised to start leading in a direction of safety, away from the storm.

He hadn't heard anything past the fact that she had talked to Dan. About them. About their differing points of view. Part of him actually felt betrayed that she had felt the need to go to someone else, even a fellow and loyal Bob-White. "You talked to Dan about this?" His voice was dangerously low and soft while his faced turned to stone. If she had taken a second to look at him, she would have known not to answer the question.

Too preoccupied with the threatening sky, she nodded absently. "When we went to get dinner from the diner last night. We had a long talk during the ride about a lot of things. It wasn't the best day for us yesterday, you know. He listened to me, offered some advice, helped me see things from another perspective. He knew I wasn't exactly feeling like myself." She jerked a shoulder, unaware that she was poking at an extremely sore spot. "You know, that sort of stuff. He's a good friend."

He could feel the ice starting to form, could feel it taking over his temper, but didn't let her see the full brunt of it. Not yet. He wanted to get more out of her before he let it out even though each word out of her mouth hit him with the force of a well-aimed dart. Deceptively calm, he inquired with feigned nonchalance, "What type of advice?"

"He suggested that you and I talk everything out, and soon. You know, since we haven't had much of a chance to, lately. Bad timing. He knew I was annoyed about the way I was pawned off on him by you at the store. We talked about that on the first ride to the hospital. He also knew that you were annoyed with me for talking to Honey about the incident inside the store." Then she turned and got a good look at his face. Realization came immediately. She had never seen him look that closed off before, that frostily furious. Her mouth dropped open and her hands stilled at her side.

"Why the hell were you talking to anyone about us?" He advanced when she took two steps back. Then they both held their ground, neither one willing to give an inch, while he resided behind a wall of pure and utter fury. Only his eyes gave it away. The light in them warned her off. "Why, Trixie?"

She found blessed relief behind a surge of the anger she had almost succeeded in tucking away. It wasn't as cool as his, wasn't nearly as controlled, but it was just as effective and strong. She had a few options. She could apologize, she could brazen it out, or she could go on the offensive. The third choice was the most appealing to her warrior nature. She threw her head back, met his angry glare with a haughty one of her own. "You weren't talking to me, Jim. Were you?" Her chin jutted forward while her eyes flashed blue fire at him.

For once, his temper ran icy cold. The chill of it should have frozen her to her spot. "I can't argue with you there. We weren't able to talk about much last night. We were at the hospital, where my sister and your best friend was a patient, and we were surrounded by our friends. It wasn't the…"

"Right time," she finished for him, mocking him with her words and her tone, and earned yet another annoyed look from him. "It seems we've come full circle, haven't we?" She pointed it out with a harsh laugh that didn't come close to reaching her eyes. "Tell me, Jim. Is it the right time and place now?"

"We'll find out," he snapped back. He didn't like having it pointed out to him or the scornful tone she used to tell him. He didn't want to get sidetracked, not when he still had a serious point to make with her. "But we're not discussing that part of yesterday right now. We're talking about your need to go and talk with someone else about our problems. I didn't start talking about it to anyone who would listen. I wouldn't do that to you, Trixie. I wanted to talk to you, not to your brothers, Di, Dan or anyone else within a five mile radius. So what if I wanted to wait until we were alone? From the sound of our conversation so far, I was exactly right."

"And you like to be in the right." She whirled around, unable to understand why he was making such a big deal out of it. "I talked to Dan. You remember him, right? Our good friend; one of our best friends. He's a Bob-White, too. He's someone that we both trust. Not only that, but he's also the one you foisted me off on to get me away from the store when Sergeant Molinson was getting ready to question you," she sneered back at him without a moment's thought, eager to ride out her wave of righteous fury, uncaring at the moment where it would take her, him or them. "Why shouldn't I have talked to him? At least he listened, answered and talked back to me. He didn't ignore me or swat me away like some bothersome fly."

How the hell had they started arguing about Dan? He couldn't figure it out, didn't want to, and explained with a chilly disdain she had never had aimed her way from him before, "It's not about Dan. It's the fact that you felt the needed to talk to someone about me, about us, about our choices. You should have brought it to me, Trixie. No one else."

"And I guess you're forgetting the fact that you weren't talking to me." Her hands were starting to sweat so she pressed them against her denim shorts while the distance between them began to grow and widen despite the fact that neither of them had moved so much as a toe.

"I was talking to you, Trixie, just not about what you wanted me to talk about with you." It was an important distinction, to his way of thinking. The wind ruffled his hair while another round of thunder boomed out, unheard by either of them. "The way I see it, you weren't talking to me."

Did he have a point there? She didn't know, didn't look farther into it, and felt a forced smile take up residence on her lips. "At least we have something to be grateful for. Here we are, finally talking, with no one else around." The sarcasm dripped from her mouth.

"Yeah. Talking." His tone of voice implied something much different than mere talking. His eyes were narrow, his mouth was set, and he concentrated on keeping his own anger, his own frustration, buried in a shell deep inside of him. It was tough to keep it under control.

"I've been waiting to discuss this with you since yesterday," Trixie announced, her overly bright tone contrasting with the fire of indignation in her eyes. She emphasized the 'you' and did her best to put all of her intensity into one, pointed look, to prove that he was the only one she had wanted to discuss the situation with. "You can tell me now, Jim. We're alone. We're not at the hospital. You can finally tell me what happened in the store." She crossed her arms over her chest and practically dared him to do it with a defiant toss of her head.

It was exactly what he had meant to do when he had started on his way down to Crabapple Farm. He meant to tell her, as calmly and understandingly as possible, to explain his reasoning, to apologize, and hope that she understood him, even if she couldn't find it within her to agree with him. So far, things hadn't been going anywhere close to how he had planned them to be. He couldn't lay all the blame at her feet. A good bit of it rested at his own. "Right," he answered, his eyes lit with a swirl of annoyance and regret. "You have some questions for me."

"A few that you said you would answer." The bitterness seeped through her in spite of her best intentions of keeping it secured tightly away. She couldn't prevent it. "Finally. It is just you and me here. I think those were your prerequisites. Am I correct?"

He frowned at her. He couldn't miss the sudden flash of ire in her eyes. He had seen it often enough, although it had not been aimed in his direction for the longest of times. Years, even. The only time she had ever remotely looked at him like that was when he had tried to curb her wild streak for adventure, back when she was a teenager. He did his best to let it roll off of him and turned the tables on her, effectively putting her back on the defensive, "Sarcasm, Trixie? It doesn't suit you all that well."

She scowled back at him while her temper bubbled and nearly boiled over. She grabbed ahold of it as best she could. Only the tiniest bit came through, at the same moment thunder cracked lowly somewhere off in the distance. "Can you blame me, Jim? You spent a good amount of time telling me that yesterday, either with your words or your actions. 'It's not the right time, Trixie. It's not the right place, Trixie'," she mimicked him derisively, putting words in his mouth that he hadn't actually said. "Do you really need me to wonder if I have to ask for clarification right now?"

Her anger only stirred up his own. He could feel it start to seethe within him, a dragon of a beast that he worked hard to keep leashed. There was nothing quite like the famous Frayne temper. It could run hot, and it usually, did but it was worse, much worse, when it ran cold. He pressed his fingers to his closed eyes and waited a full minute before saying logically, "I know you're a little angry at me right now, Trixie. I want you to know that I'm sorry that I put you off yesterday. I didn't mean to do it. It seemed to be the only way to deal with everything that was going on."

Her eyes grew to twice their normal size. "Are you trying to be…reasonable?" She was deceptively quiet, watching him carefully for his answer. For some reason that cool, calm and collected façade of his annoyed her more than if he had verbally torn into her for daring to mock him. She had no idea how much effort it took him to keep it from breaking down.

He ran both hands through his hair this time. He really didn't want to fight, not any longer. He wanted them to settle it, put it behind them, and then move on. From the furious expression on her face, he could see that wasn't going to happen, not anytime soon. Most importantly, he wanted to be sensible, logical and, dammit, reasonable. He tried again, hoping for better results. "We're both exhausted, Trixie. We've been through quite an ordeal over the past day. All of us have. Honey was hurt in an attempted robbery. We spent a sleepless and extremely tense night at the hospital. We missed out on our anniversary." Because intelligence ran in the Frayne family as well as a strong temper, he didn't add in the other complaints that they shared and were in the process of airing out. He let out a pent-up breath. "Obviously neither one of us is in the best mood right now for this discussion. So, yeah, I guess you could say that I am trying to be reasonable. Maybe we should put this off until tomorrow, Trixie, when we're both feeling more like ourselves."

She chuckled. She actually chuckled. It was a peculiar little sound; didn't have an ounce of humor or goodwill to it. "There you go again, making the decisions for me." Snapping a hand on her hip, she declared forcefully, "I'm old enough to make my own decisions, as you should very well know, Jim."

He recognized the force driving her. It was equivalent to the powerful wind and would not be halted or pushed aside. Giving up, he held out his hands, palms out. "Calm down, Trix. I'm not insinuating that you aren't capable of making your own decisions. I'm just saying that I'm not in the best mood, you're not either, and…"

Oh, he made another mistake. Trixie jumped on it immediately. Clearly affronted, she drew herself up as far as her five foot three frame would allow, which, admittedly, was not as impressive as his taller one, and did her best to stare him down. An impossible feat since she had to look up. Staring him up, she came to accept, was a much more apt term. "I'm in a fine mood," she practically spit the words out at him, proving his point better than he ever could have. "Perfectly fine. Just dandy, in fact. I don't think I've ever felt better in my entire life." It was a lie, a big one. She didn't feel refreshed any longer. She was primed, ready for more of a fight. The anticipation coursed through her veins, waiting, begging, to be released. She didn't plan on being reasonable. She planned on being…difficult.

He was holding onto the edges of his temper, could almost feel them start to slip out of his grips. She was just too damn good at jabbing at it. He had never realized how good before. "Trixie…" He began again but didn't get any farther than that.

"Don't you dare 'Trixie' me again. And don't you dare try to placate me." Stepping up to him, she leveled a finger into his chest, dead center. "Stop it, Jim. Stop telling me what's good for me, like I'm some kind of a poor damsel in distress. After everything we've been through over the years, you should know that I don't need rescuing and I certainly don't need things sugarcoated. I'm not helpless. I'm not stupid."

"I seem to remember many, many times where you were in trouble and you did need me or another Bob-White or two to come to your rescue." He stated it quietly but the glow in his eyes proved how irritated her words had made him, how much they had iced over his growing fury. "I wouldn't insult you by calling you helpless or stupid, Trixie. Those words are not for you. You are one of the strongest, most capable people I have ever met. But I have no difficulty saying that trouble does manage to find you, even when you aren't there."

The wrong meaning sank in. It felt like she was sinking into a sea of righteous indignation. Her lips pulled back into a feral snarl. "Are you blaming me for what happened to Honey?"

"No, dammit, no!" Jim exploded, straining for even the tiniest bit of patience. His supply was running extremely low right now. "I'm not saying it's your fault that Sax Jenner came into the store, looking for you. I'm saying that trouble seems to be attracted to you, no matter where you are or where you are supposed to be. For some reason, you seem to attract it. You always have, since the first moment I met you. That's all that I'm saying."

It didn't exactly appease her. "You don't like it," she stated after staring at the steely set of his jaw, momentarily missing out on the fact that he had let it slip that Jenner had been expecting her at the store, not Honey.

"Don't like the fact that you slip into and out of danger the way most women slip into and out of a pair of shoes?" Jim repeated back. "Of course not, Trixie. I don't like it when your life is in danger. No one does. You're rather special to me, you know." The angry light to his eyes almost belied the spoken words, as did the low sound of his voice. "You're rather special to all of us."

"My life wasn't in danger this time," she retorted with a small sniff of annoyance, not entirely satisfied with his explanation and yet unable to completely overlook it or form an argument against it.

"It would have been," he muttered under his breath. An image of what Jenner had intended to do to her flashed vibrantly in his mind, caused a tight knot to twist inside his stomach. The color drained out of his face. Needing something to do, he reached down, picked up a stone, and turned it over and over in his palm. The smoothness was soothing, better than the series of deep breaths he took to attempt to regain some control over his feelings and their discussion.

"Do you want me become a detective?" She had never thought to pose the question to him before, had never thought that he would have any answer other than a positive one. Even the wind seemed to still while she waited breathlessly for his answer.

He couldn't even begin to catalogue the emotions churning within him. They were too many to handle, too many to control, and were totally responsible for his response. Even though it was spoken quietly, there was quite a bit of frosty force behind it. "I want you to do what makes you happy, Trixie. If you want to pursue a career where you constantly hunt down and capture bad guys, and constantly put your own life in danger, then I'm all for it. Go for it, I say."

Was he in favor of it, indeed? Trixie's lips turned down, more annoyed than ever at his description of her chosen career. For some reason, it dredged up the words of his parents, almost seemed to equal their meaning, which caused her stomach start to plummet. Unease, uncertainly and doubt over Honey's future as her partner made her even more testy and temperamental. "What kind of answer it that?" she complained in disgust.

"The only one I can give right now." Through most of their discussion, he hadn't been able to tell what she was thinking. Her feelings were obvious to read, showed in her body language, in her tone of voice, and in the words that she practically spat out at him. Her thoughts had been something entirely different: closed off and inaccessible. But it was clear to him that she was expecting him to put down her chosen career, to refuse to support her in it. For that reason alone, he decided not to give her the satisfaction of answering, either in the affirmative or the negative. "I don't tell you what to do. As you just stated a few minutes earlier, you are perfectly capable of making your own decisions."

"You're wrong. You do tell me what to do. In fact, you did just that a single day ago." Her lips turned up into a ghastly smile. Her words weren't exactly true. Worse, she knew it. He didn't make a point of keeping things from her or nudging her out of the way. At the moment, it didn't matter. Content in her beliefs, she sailed on, "That's why we're here right now, having this extremely pleasant, enlightening and extremely memorable discussion. Now I am being sarcastic, in case you wanted to know," she informed in a nasty aside that didn't sit well upon her.

"I didn't miss it." He contemplated the rock in his hand. Needing some type of release, he drew his hand back and then sent it flying through the trees. It made a satisfying landing, a good fifteen feet away.

"Just wanted to make certain you knew," she replied derisively. She leaned up against the side of the clubhouse, her blue shirt standing out against the worn and weathered paint, and tapped her foot on the ground, petulantly showing her impatience with him, with their fight, with the whole damn situation. "Well, we don't need to put if off any longer. So, just tell me, already. I want everything."

"You always do," he retorted, giving back her attitude with a bit of his own. "You're never satisfied until you know it all, no matter at what cost."

She drew back, offended, but didn't call him on it. At the moment, she had bigger fish to fry. She was about to hear what had happened at the store, during the shift that she should have been working. "Tell me, Jim. I have every right to know."

It would be better to get it over with. He could tell that now. He almost took her arm, almost guided her into the clubhouse to get out of the storm that was about to hit at any moment but he wasn't a stupid man. She wouldn't have appreciated his touch or his help, not at the moment. They stayed right where they were, while the winds picked up and another roll of thunder boomed off somewhere in the distance. The next flash of lightning hit a bit closer. "He wasn't trying to rob the store, Trixie," he informed her, doing his best to choose words that wouldn't hurt her or make her feel responsible.

"Do I look like an idiot to you, Jim?" It felt good, unbelievably good, to finally be releasing more of her pent-up emotions on him. She rolled her eyes. "I figured that one out for myself. In fact, I think you told me that already, a few minutes earlier, if I recall correctly. My question to you right now is not about Jenner's motivations. I don't care about him. It's about why. And it's about you. Why did you maneuver me away from the crime scene yesterday? Why didn't you want me around when you talked to Sergeant Molinson?" It still rankled, hurt even more now that they were in such complete discord.

It was his turn to get defensive. He hid behind the cool of his pride, the chill of his temper. "Honey needed you with her," he bit out.

"Try again." She efficiently squashed it like a bug, sent a narrowed look his way, and shook her head. Her curls didn't bounce with the movement. They lay limp and flat against her head, as limp and flat as her eyes. "No, Honey did not need me. Not then. It took almost two hours before we were finally able to see her in her room. In fact, you were just coming in from your interview with the good sergeant when we were finally briefed on her condition. Try it again. Jim." She nearly used his last name but caught herself in time.

"Fine." One word, the one word all fights seemed to get stuck on at some point. The next boom of thunder didn't even register on him. He was too intent on her. "Have it your way. You want the truth. I'll give it to you. I didn't want you to hear me," he shared instead, an irritated scowl on his face. "I didn't want you to listen in. I didn't want you in the same area."

Even though she had come to that conclusion as soon as Dan had started leading her to his truck, it hurt to hear the words from his mouth. They penetrated the armor around her heart, buried themselves deep within her, while she vowed not to show him how much that it had affected her. Hiding behind her anger, using it like a well-used shield, she sneered out, "Protecting me, of course. I don't need it, Jim. I know how to take care of myself. I know what I can handle, what I can't. I can handle whatever happened."

"Look, Trixie." The patience he prayed for was almost out of reach. He found a pitiful amount in the dejected set of her shoulders that was in direct contrast to the flashing of her eyes. It was the only thing that helped him attempt to get the conversation back on track. "Listen, please. I can't remember ever being so scared, not in my entire life. That bastard had a gun. Honey couldn't do anything to overpower him. She couldn't. She was powerless against him. And she looked so scared. I don't ever want to see her look like that again."

Because she could picture it exactly the way Jim was stating it, Trixie's face started to soften. "Oh, Honey," she got out, her heart aching for the fright her friend had been put through. "She must have been terrified."

"She was. I was stuck in that back room for what seemed like ages, biding my time until I could get in to help her. I was thankful to have Brian join me. We were finally able to get into the room, to get to Jenner and even the odds in Honey's favor. She got hurt when he pushed her away but we didn't realize it until later. You saw what happened at the end. That's all, Trixie. Really. There's not much more to it than that." He wasn't going to tell her all of it. He intended to stand firm on this. He couldn't let her know it all, in spite of the fact that she believed she could handle anything.

Trixie opened her mouth, blew out a breath, and then closed it. "No more?" She studied him closely, wondered at the completeness of his story, and frowned in serious concentration. Was it all? She couldn't tell. Something deep within her told her that it wasn't, that he was holding something back from her. She had learned through many investigations to never, ever go against her feelings. Going with instinct, she accused him, "You're lying, Jim. You're still holding something back from me. I can tell."

Because he was guilty of doing just that, Jim went on the attack. His words came out on a rush, moving much faster than his brain. "You're not satisfied even now, are you, Trixie? What more do you want? Do you want to go down to Mr. Lytell's and watch it on a surveillance tape? That is, if he even has one? Do you want to see the look of terror on Honey's face or the gloating one on Jenner's? Do you want to hear how he planned on killing you or the ugly plans he had for my sister?"

Trixie's face turned an odd shade of white, stood out in direct contrast to the black of the sky above them. Dear Lord, she was wrong. She didn't know if she could handle it. "Jim," she managed to get out past the lump in her throat.

Frustrated, furious that she had managed to pull out more from him than he had wanted to give, Jim gave her his back and paced away. He went a good ten feet away, turned, and came back. "See, Trixie? Do you see now? Maybe I was trying to protect you or shield you or whatever. Who the hell knows? Right now, I can't even tell you what my intentions were. I can guarantee you that the next time something like this happens, I'll be more than glad to let you have a front seat to any and all of the events. I won't make the same mistake again."

Because she was feeling suddenly foolish and wished to heavens she could take some of her prodding back, Trixie lost a little of her steam. "I…"

"Don't, Trixie. Don't," he shot back at her, his eyes coated over with ice. "There's nothing you can say, not right now. We're lacking something here. It's something called trust. I want you to trust in me, to believe that maybe I have good intentions for making a few decisions without consulting you ahead of time." He thought a moment, recalled how she had sought someone else's advice, and then added, his harsh tone covering up his own hurt, "I would like to be able to trust you to come to me, not someone else. You obviously can't do that. You'd rather go to someone else."

She didn't see it that way. Couldn't. Not then. There would be a chance for her to when her mind had a chance to calm down, when her. As it was, she had what she perceived as a bigger issue to point out to him besides trust. While her pride wasn't as cool as his, she had plenty of it and she wrapped herself in it. "I disagree. It's not about a matter of trust. It's a matter of respect. You didn't respect me enough here, Jim. Not enough to tell it to me straight, right from the start. I don't like that." Her eyes held an edge to them while her face was flushed with a vibrant red.

His pride, the one that he knew was as deep-rooted within him as his honor, responded for him. "Well, you didn't trust me. I don't like that." An ounce of satisfaction flared within him while he threw her own words back at him, in what he perceived to be the correct context. "You didn't have to question me or my motives. I would have let you in, when the time was right."

"Yeah, trust you to know what is right for me," she scoffed lightly under her breath, making sure to emphasize the word, 'trust'. Then she snapped her head back, looked him dead in the eye. "You don't have to worry about me. I can figure things out for myself. I can make my own decisions. I know who I am, what I want, who I trust. You, out of everyone, should know that."

Taking aback, he realized she was talking about something more than the frustrations and uncertainty of the past twenty-hours. Their beautiful and memorable prom night. It was only a little over a month away, felt like an eon from where they were at right now. How they had managed to get so far off track from that wonderful, magical moment to this horrible, ugly one, he couldn't even begin to imagine. The potency of the memories came back, helped take the leading edge off of some of his anger. He closed in on her, until there was only a foot of ground separating them. He would have taken her hands but she had them balled up at her sides. "Trixie, we're not getting anywhere right now. We keep circling around the issues."

"Trust and respect." Her eyes were narrowed slits. She didn't see him reach for her, turned away at the exact same moment that he did. She didn't see the hurt flash in his eyes at what he perceived as a clear rejection of his touch. "That's what it boils down to, huh?" She glanced over her shoulder, surprised to see an odd glow in his emerald eyes and wondered what had put it there.

He wouldn't yell. He absolutely wouldn't. But he could pitch his voice low where the words were as strong and cutting as one. "I'm not in the mood to work on them anymore. We're done for now. The storm's almost here. It's time to go."

She should have kept her mouth shut but she didn't. Her eyes slowly widened while she took an inexplicably amount of time turning back around to face him, almost as if she was moving in slow motion. When she was in front of him, she questioned scathingly, "Making decisions for me again, Frayne?" Even the use of his last name wasn't smart.

He had almost, almost, convinced himself to keep the rest of his temper leashed. The cocky sneer she aimed his way, the purposeful use of his last name, the tone of her voice did his intentions in within the span of half a heartbeat. "Stay out in the storm, then. Belden," he tossed her surname back at her as the first fat raindrop from the storm landed on the ground between them. It was punctuated by another, then two, then three more. He didn't feel them or the way they began to increase in presence and pressure. With eyes narrowed and lips thinned, he announced accusingly, "You always do whatever the hell you want, anyway. You always push and prod until everything falls right in your lap, the exact place that you want it to be."

"And you always want to protect, to shield, to take care, to smother." Trixie didn't defend herself; she couldn't. It was true. It was part of her make-up, her impulsiveness, her curiosity, and a weakness as well as a strength. She honed in on what she perceived to be his weakness, hammered away at it while another bolt of lightning streaked across the sky. It didn't matter that he had only ever had her well-being at the forefront of his mind, that he had never meant to be controlling or smothering. Worse, it didn't matter at the moment that she was fully aware of that fact. "I'm not a porcelain doll, Jim. You don't have to protect me or take care of me. No one does. I can take care of myself. I am not fragile."

His laugh was hard and harsh, proving how much he took exception to the word smother. He didn't call her on it. "I would never use fragile to describe you. Trust me." Then his eyes leveled on hers, hardened. "But you don't trust me, not fully."

"Of course I trust you," she snapped back furiously, unsure how to get her thoughts and feelings through. There were too many, as wild and untamed as the storm that was nearly upon them. She slapped angrily at a curl that blew into her eyes. The wind immediately brought it back. "How can you not know that?"

"You're not very good at proving it." He moved back from her, away from her, and stared in the direction of his house. He needed to leave, to get to his home, to get away before he said something that they would both regret. "I know no such thing."

Trixie's hands started to shake while she could almost see something precious start to slip through them and fall away, from her and from Jim. She clenched them, held them tight. Her glare was both angry and hurt, at the same time. "You should," she informed him in a voice that sounded choked.

He wiped away a drop of rain that landed on his cheek. He didn't see the hurt behind her stance. He didn't hear the almost wistful sadness to her voice. He couldn't get beyond her anger. His was flowing cold, matched the wetness of the falling rain perfectly. He didn't ask if she was going back with him to the house. "I've had enough for one day, Trixie. I'm going home."

Her anger was more in tune with the sky. The great big booms of thunder, the more than occasional slices of lightning. Furious, hot, and begging for more release. She reached out, grabbed his elbow, and pulled him back around. She immediately dropped her hand when she saw the way he was looking at her. "We're not finished yet," she countered heatedly. "We can't leave it like this."

Because he wanted to shake a bit of sense into her, or maybe shake her anger out of her, he thought it would be best to put his hands in his pockets. When the thunder rolled, the lightning followed at an alarmingly close distance, and the rain began to pick up in earnest, he started towards the path to the Manor House. "I'm finished. For now. I told you, I'm going home." No invitation was given for her to accompany him.

Not that she would have accepted it. "I'm not in the mood for visiting anymore. I'd ask you to give Honey a message for me but I'm afraid that you wouldn't be able to _respect_ me enough to follow through on it." It was snide, a reflection of her hurt, and not the right thing to say. At all. But she couldn't care less, not at the moment. There would be time for regrets later, in the endless night that was gleefully waiting for her. "I doubt I could _trust _you to complete it for me. Oh, wait. That's not the problem, is it? You think I don't trust you." She tapped a finger against her chin in feigned nonchalance, lifted her eyebrows, and gave met his look with an equally irate one of her own.

He bit back a furious retort, recognizing the well-aimed arrow that penetrated the shield of ice he was trying to hide behind nicely, and refused to be baited. "Nice to see that you still have a sense of humor," he settled for instead, a muscle working heatedly on the side of his neck.

"Go, then," she ordered him stonily after a long, tense moment where the air between them crackled with something more than the electricity of the storm. "Just go." Trixie's whole body started to tremble but she refused to break down and cry. Not now, not in front of him. She turned, gave him her back, and didn't feel the sting of the increasing rain. Salty tears began to mix with the bitter precipitation. She would be damned before she would be the one that was left behind, watching the other leave. Shoulders thrown back, she began to break through the curtain of rain. She was going to be first. Without throwing a look over her shoulder or even checking to see if he was going in the opposite direction to his home, she started back down the path to her house. She didn't attempt a wave of careless farewell or glance back. She only wanted away from there. Her legs ate up the path, deliberately and quickly, until she was certain she was out of his sight to stop. Then she gave in to the overwhelming need to stop, leaned against the thick base of an old tree, and hugged herself against the debilitating pain that was coating her heart, her head bowed in defeat. Sobs were there, begging to be released, but she didn't have the strength or the time for them. She couldn't; not when she had a whole house full of people waiting for her at home. With the canopy of the branches high above giving her some shelter from the storm, she stayed and waited, needing to regain even the tiniest bit of control over her emotions, while the cold from the rain seeped into her skin.

_ I truly need to give a big THANK YOU to my sister for this chapter. Her help was extremely invaluable. She went through countless sloppy copies over the past few days until we were finally able to make it to this one. She also understood how important it was for this chapter to come out 'just right'! The rest of the story really depends on it. I doubt it would have turned out this way without her! Thanks again!


	21. Chapter 21

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Twenty

A cool breeze blew, shaking the remaining raindrops from the leaves of the trees. The clouds had thinned out and dispersed, allowing the tiniest bit of blue sky to shine through. Small fingers of pearly pink and peach sunlight broke through, another sign that the storm was well and truly finished. Unnoticing the amazing about-face in nature, Trixie came to a stop at the edge of the path. She surveyed the house in front of her, her mind intent on one thing. What was the best possible route to enter it? Reddy's series of delighted barks as he ran through mud puddles in the backyard, sounding more like a puppy than a middle-aged dog, didn't break her concentration. The debate warred within. Back door or front? The back door led to the kitchen, the heartbeat of their house. The front door provided the quickest route to the stairs, to her room, and to safety. Sneakered feet stepped over and around large and small puddles. Deliberately making her steps as quiet as she could, Trixie climbed up the front steps and pulled back the screen door. Normally she would have let it slam behind her with a resounding thud, announcing her arrival better than if she had taken out a billboard. Not tonight. She caught it before it had a chance to close, carefully eased it back, and then latched it.

Somehow, she had managed to pick the right door to enter the farmhouse. Her wounded eyes searched through the large and charming living room. Unbelievably, there was not one member of her family in attendance. She scanned the hallway that led to the kitchen and the other rooms on the first floor. Muted voices could be heard coming from the direction. There were a few people in the kitchen; maybe even a Belden or two in the den. Taking a deep breath to steady herself as well as strengthen her voice, Trixie called out, "I'm back, Moms, Dad! The storm's finally over. I'm going upstairs to take a shower!" It was hard to talk but the effort it took to sound casual was excruciating. She didn't wait to hear any response but hurried up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and flew towards the shelter of her room. She threw open her bedroom door, hurried over to her dresser, and opened drawers at random. She blindly grabbed the first set of clothes that she could find and then practically sprinted down the hallway to the bathroom, hoping and praying that she wouldn't run into any of her family.

Luck, that intangible and fickle thing, was with her once again. She didn't run into a single soul upstairs. When she was successfully closed off from the others in the bright yellow bathroom, Trixie leaned against the back of the bathroom door, stared up at the ceiling, and worked on her breathing skills. In and out, nice and slow. When it felt like her heart was beginning to resemble its normal pace and didn't feel like it wanted to pound out of her chest any longer, she resolutely turned the lock on the door. Deciding she had better get it over with, she bravely stepped up to the mirror to survey the damages.

And felt even more defeated, even more heartbroken. She took a quiet second to damn her overly expressive face, wished she hadn't been gifted with being so open and easy to read. The eyes that stared back at her were haunted and hollow, without a single ounce of joy sparkling within their sapphire depths. Her face was abnormally pale underneath her summer tan. It was better than good that she hadn't seen anyone on her wild rush upstairs. No one in the inquisitive and astute Belden family would have let her brush aside their questions or would have settled for the short answers she would have given them. The look of devastation and pain was written clearly across her face as if she and Jim had taken the time to pen it out for all to see, was seen in the hopelessness and hurt of her eyes. It was blatantly obvious that something terrible had happened to her.

She tore her gaze from her own eyes, which she would have found ironically amusing if she was feeling like herself. Fingers touched her wet curls, which were plastered to her head in a damp halo. Normally vivacious and bouncy, the curls were now limp and listless. Her skin felt chilled, beyond the bones and all the way through to the depths of the marrow. Her clothes hung wetly against her body. Her sneakers had to be the most uncomfortable articles of clothing she was wearing. She kicked one off first, then the other, and tossed the balled-up socks in the direction of the hamper. She whipped off her shirt. It pooled on the gleaming tiled floor, an ocean of blue that mocked her with its cheery brilliance. She stared at it, scowled down at it, and came to the conclusion that it was going to be an extremely long time before she would ever wear that color again. The rest of her clothes followed next. Shivering, and not from the sudden coolness of the air, Trixie pulled back the shower curtain and stepped over into the tub. The first blast of water hit her hard. It was cold, hadn't had a chance to warm up yet. She didn't care. Trixie lifted her face to it, met the full force of the spray head-on, let the water run over her. As it warmed, her skin began to feel better. But not her heart and certainly not her soul.

She had no clue how long she stood under the showerhead, doing nothing but standing there. She didn't think. She didn't contemplate. She didn't remember or try to piece together where it had gone so wrong. All she did was stand there and let the water course over her. She even forgot the soap and the shampoo, a requisite for most of the human population when they showered. Instead, she was content to stand under the warmth of the water. Steam rose, covered her, and fogged up the mirrors and the lone window. When someone knocked discreetly on the door and brought her back to awareness, Trixie jerked her head and reached to turn off the water.

"Don't forget, Trixie, others may want some hot water, too," Brian's voice, easy and normal, reminded her from the other side of the door.

Biting back a groan, Trixie realized that she had been in the shower much longer than normal, especially with the amount of people who lived in her house. With a longing glance back into the tub, she stepped onto the merry bright green bathmat that had two jovial little ducks splashing around in a puddle. She automatically grabbed a towel and worked on getting herself dried off.

It was easier not to think, to concentrate on the routine. Focusing on one step at a time, she picked up the clothes she had grabbed from her room, and was defeated before she had a chance to begin. Her hands froze when she saw the T-shirt bunched up in her hands. It was gray. It was large, too large for her. NYU was emblazoned across it. And it belonged to Jim. Trixie actually felt her heart stutter when she stared at it. It took a force of will to pull it up and over her head. Normally, the wearing of it made her feel safe, secure and comforted. Not tonight. Not after that ugly scene. She finished dressing, brushed her teeth despite the fact that it was still too early to turn into bed, and did an extremely haphazard job on making the bathroom presentable for the next person to use it, and then turned to face the door.

The door seemed to be a mile away instead of the usual five steps. Her feet brought her to it slowly while she smoothed a hand over her face, hoping to take away any lingering evidence with her swipe. She had to order her hand to touch the handle and indulged herself in one last minute to compose herself. She did not want to open the door or see anyone and sent up a small prayer that the hallway was as empty as it had been when she had first entered it, that she would be able to make the short distance to her room without running into a single Belden. Cautiously, she turned the handle. Just as cautiously, she put a brave foot out into the hallway.

Empty. Her sigh of relief was huge. The other foot followed. A woman on a mission, she began to stride as swiftly as she could towards the salvation and solitude her bedroom promised her, where she could lick her wounds in private and not have to converse with anyone. She had only made it halfway to her destination when a door popped open a short way down the hall.

"Trixie." Brian interrupted the purposefulness of her trek, stopped her with the one word and his presence. Whistling, he left his room and came towards her, his hands in the pockets of his dark green shorts. "I'm glad you're back."

She was not the best at schooling her emotions. To put it plainly, she sucked at it. Worse, she knew it. But still Trixie attempted it. Luckily the overly warm and overly long shower had brought a pink flush to her cheeks to counteract the paleness that would show again once her body temperature returned to normal. Although it was difficult to do, nearly bordered on the impossible, she pinned a small smile on her lips and turned around to face him with deceptive ease. "Brian," she greeted him, pathetically grateful her voice didn't shake or wobble.

He came to a halt beside her and leaned up against the wall, in-between two framed watercolor paintings their mother had completed when she was younger, when she still had free time on her hands. One was a still-life; a vase filled with pretty white lilies. The other was one of his favorites. It showed their orchard in its full springtime glory. He smirked when he saw the T-shirt that swam on her smaller frame and nearly hid the black cotton shorts she wore underneath. "Nice shirt," he complimented her, well aware of who it actually belonged to. "Good school, too."

He always said that to her when he caught her wearing it. Trixie's fingers caught the edge of the large shirt and began to play with it nervously. Normally she would joke back to him, either about the true ownership of the shirt or the university that three-fourths of the Belden children would be attending in the fall, but not tonight. She didn't have it in her tonight, especially when the shirt she was wearing was akin to pouring salt on a gaping, throbbing wound. "It's quiet downstairs," she remarked instead, wanting to distract him.

She succeeded. "Mart's still up at Regan's. He hasn't come back yet. I'll bet that the three of them decided to watch another movie. I also wouldn't be surprised if they had to calm the horses down during the storm. I can't remember having such a powerful one hit our neck of the woods for the longest time." The remaining Beldens had gathered to watch it from their porch. All had cringed when they had heard the sound of creaking branches from their orchard every so often. They would check out the damage later, under the bright light of day. "Bobby is curled up on the sofa downstairs in the den, playing his Nintendo DS. Dad is in the kitchen, reading the Sunday newspaper for the third time. Moms was putting the finishing touches on her latest masterpiece. She made cinnamon rolls, if you're interested in having a dessert. They should be ready soon."

The thought of food didn't appeal to her in the least. She doubted if she would ever feel the urge to eat ever again. Masking her unusual distaste for one of her mother's fabulous desserts with yet another feigned smile, Trixie politely declined, "No, I don't think I want to eat a cinnamon roll tonight. I don't know about you but I'm still feeling kind of tired from the weekend. It wasn't a very good one." For her, it had only gotten worse. She slipped a damp curl behind her ear.

He didn't look into the flimsy excuse she offered him. His exhaustion hadn't completely fled after a dreamless nap, either, although his body had become more equipped at handling a lack of sleep from the hectic pace he carried during his junior year. "I can't wait to sink my teeth into one. I'll make certain to hide one or two for you since you don't want to claim one tonight. Once Mart gets a sniff of them, he's going to want to devour as many as he can. To tell you the truth, I think that's why Moms waited until after he left to make the rolls," he added with a broad wink that would normally have had her giggling back at him.

Trixie forced a half-hearted chuckle out of her dry throat because he expected it from her. It sounded rusty and made her feel like razors had taken up residence in her throat. "That's Mart for you," she responded at an attempt at her normal humor.

Brian's forehead furrowed in concentration at her lackluster response before it smoothed out after closely examining her. She didn't look anything but tired to him. Deciding that was all it was, he covered up what he really wanted to talk about with yet another question, "Have you called that scholarship committee yet? Dad brought it up to us when we were on the porch. Neither Moms or I could answer him, though. You got that letter at the beginning of the week. If you want it, you have to call them sometime this week. They gave you a two-week window of opportunity. You don't want to lose it, Trix."

What scholarship letter? Brief confusion; then she remembered after plodding through the muddled mess that was her brain. "No, I haven't gotten around to calling the scholarship committee yet. It slipped my mind." She shrugged her shoulder. Honestly, she couldn't even remember where she had put the letter. The last time she had seen it had been in the kitchen, when she had watched Bobby and Larry with…Jim. The sweetness of that night came back to her, brought with it a pang that wasn't merely painful. It was agonizing. It was only eight days in the past. How on earth had they managed to make such a mess of things? No answers were forthcoming.

Ever the helpful, older brother, totally unaware of the path of her true thoughts, he tapped her on the shoulder and insisted strongly, "You need to call them, Trixie. Don't let it slide. The money will come in handy for you this school year. It will help you buy a few textbooks."

It would most definitely come in handy, especially since she didn't have a summer job anymore to help with the upcoming cost of her freshman year. Her family had been properly stunned and horrified when she had shared that tidbit with them at the dinner table. She had never seen her father turn such a brilliant shade of angry before. He had decreed then and there that no Belden was to ever set foot in that store, a decree which was ratified immediately by all members of their family, even Bobby. Trixie didn't bring up about her lost job, as well as her lost wages, not wanting to keep the conversation going any longer than it already was. Instead, she nodded her head and replied dutifully, "I'll take care of it this week, Brian. I promise."

He started to nonchalantly inch his way towards the topic that he really wanted to talk about. "So, you made it up to the Manor House tonight. Did you get there before the storm hit?" He didn't look directly at her and suddenly found the hardwood floorboards very interesting.

Lying was not her forte. It was not something she liked to do and was definitely something she was not very good at. But there was no way that she was going to tell her brother about her nasty fight with Jim. Walking an extremely fine line where she hoped she didn't have to actually lie to him, she didn't confirm or deny his statement about if she had made it to Honey's house. "I got drenched on the way up," Trixie said instead, using most of the truth as she saw fit. "That's why I wanted to get a shower as soon as I could. I was soaked straight through."

"I'm surprised that you didn't stay and grab a shower up there. The Wheelers wouldn't have minded." Brian frowned at her, his doctor instincts in full swing. Calculating the time from when she had left to the time she had come home, he realized she would have spent at least an hour and a half in wet clothes. "I also hope you don't catch a cold or a fever from it."

She had more than a cold, more than a fever, more than any other sickness her brother or any other respected doctor could come up with. Dodging the question the best that she could without actually answering it, she chided gently, "Brian, it was storming. You can't take a shower in a storm."

His teeth flashed in a humorous grin, aimed entirely at himself. She was right. No water usage during a storm. "Well, then I'll say that I'm even more surprised that Jim didn't offer to give you a ride home instead of having you walk back yourself."

She swore in her mind. He had a valid point. Jim would have done more than simply offer her a ride home, had they not participated in such a horrendous disagreement. He would have insisted upon it. Trixie hastily scrambled for an acceptable excuse. "I left when the storm was over. Everyone was still tired at the Manor House. I didn't need a ride. I didn't mind walking home. The return of the cooler air felt good." The first part was true. She hadn't left her position by that tree until the storm had lost its steam and started to pull away from their small corner of the globe. The second…well, it wasn't a total lie. She was certain everyone in the Wheeler family was still tired. And she only insinuated that a ride had been offered.

With no reason to suspect anything less, Brian accepted it at face value. Jim had looked the most fatigued out of all of them. He brought out the big question, the one he wanted to know the answer to, and the most important one to him. "So, you got to see Honey. How is she doing?"

Trixie dropped her eyes to the floor and began shifting from one foot to the other. From somewhere within her overworked brain, she recalled what Jim had said about Honey when they had first met at the clubhouse. She chose her words carefully. "She's doing fine. She's doing great. She wanted to sit on the front porch with her family to watch the storm roll in."

The information pleased him. He could see it in his mind, Honey and her family reclining on their porch the same way that he and his family had done. There had to a fateful symmetry in that fact, he thought with a hopeful flash to his dark eyes. One family watching it from the hill; the other from the hollow. He posed the next question casually. "Did anyone else stop in to see her today?"

Again, she relied on the information Jim had given her. She doubted if she would ever be able to forget one word that had been exchanged between the two of them, no matter how much she wished that she could. "Dan had already been by to visit before he went over to Regan's apartment for the movie. Di wasn't able to come and visit. She called instead." Trixie kept her answers short and brief and braced herself for the next one. So far, she hadn't had to actually lie to him but she didn't think her luck would hold out much longer.

"I wanted to make it up to see her but then the storm came. It's probably too late to go up there now. Dr. Ferris was pretty adamant about Honey needing her rest. Her parents supported him completely." He glanced musingly up at the ceiling, his nerves practically eating him alive. If he had looked at Trixie, he would have realized that she wasn't being completely truthful with him but he was too consumed with his own thoughts about Honey. "Is she asleep yet?"

Trixie swallowed her own disappointment. It tasted bitter. There was no help for it. She was going to have to lie to her older brother. "Not when I left but I'm certain she was going to be getting ready to turn in soon. Her parents don't want her to stay up late." She didn't know that, could only hazard a guess. She hid behind it, not wanting Brian to call Honey up and find out that she had never actually made it to the Manor House.

Brian flicked his wrist up, noted the time on his watch, and thought he could try it, anyway. It wasn't that late and Trixie had said that she wasn't in bed yet. If she was, then he supposed he would have to settle for talking to his best friend, instead. Not a bad deal, all around. Decision made, he started towards the stairs and the telephone and called back over his shoulder, missing the flash of guilt in her eyes, "Are you certain you don't want to come down and have one of those cinnamon rolls? Moms makes the best."

And face her father, who had eyes like an eagle? Or her mother, who knew her inside and out? "No," burst past her lips with more force than was necessary. Before he could ask her about her forceful response, Trixie turned and quickly entered her bedroom. She barely refrained from slamming it and settled for closing it with a smart snap instead. Brian was left staring at the closed door.

He waved his hands in the air, came to the mistaken belief that Trixie had to be more tired than he had originally thought, and continued down the stairs, taking then two at a time the same way that Trixie had a short time earlier. Only his feet weren't pounding to get to the privacy of his room. His were eagerly bringing him towards a cinnamon roll and, even better, a means of communication to the Manor House. He accepted his dessert from his mother with a thankful nod, smiled at his youngest brother and father, and picked up the cordless and retreated to the front porch where he could hopefully have some cherished solitude, something that didn't happen often in his overly crowded house. He didn't have to think as he dialed the number by rote to the Manor House, having already mentally prepared himself to ask for Jim if anyone other than Honey answered the phone. Even though it was juvenile thing to do, he crossed his fingers.

His grin grew wider when her sweet voice greeted him on the other end. "Hello, Honey," he said in response and sat back on the wooden glider, gently rocking back and forth with his dessert on a small table, lying forgotten, while he wondered at his good fortune. He truly hadn't believed that Honey would still be up, let alone answering the telephone, and had expected to spend a few minutes conversing with Jim.

Having been gently reminded by her parents that she needed to take it easy and to not put any undue amount of stress on herself, Honey had been in the process of heading upstairs to her bedroom to turn in for the night when the phone rang. She waved an airy farewell to her parents, who left the room with twin looks of amusement on their faces, and settled back on the comfortable sofa in the large living room. She slipped off her shoes, tucked her legs underneath her, and felt a secret smile curve her lips. "Hello, Brian. It's very nice to hear from you."

Being Brian Belden, the first thing he did was apologize to her. Sucking in a deep breath, he began, "Honey, I'm so sorry that I wasn't able to come up and visit you tonight."

"Don't worry about it," she hastened to assure him, well aware that the storm had kept everyone away. While it had disappointed her, she had come to grips a while ago with the fact that she wouldn't be able to see any of her friends. It would have been dangerous to move about in a storm of that magnitude. "It's not a big deal. As much as I want to see all of the Bob-Whites, I completely understand. The storm was a bad one. I watched it with my parents and Miss Trask from the front porch."

It fit with the image Trixie had given him, made him smile in response. "Yeah, my family and I watched it come in and attack, too. I'm afraid that some of our apple trees didn't fare all that well." He looked in the direction of the orchard. "We heard some interesting noises coming from out there. No one has wanted to go out and inspect the damages, though. It's going to be dark soon. Tomorrow will be soon enough to check it out."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Honey fell back into a memory of a bad storm, a hurricane, that had damaged their clubhouse, a few years earlier. It had been a tough clean-up but they had pulled together and had managed to do fix up their special place. "I think everything survived just fine up here. We didn't hear any crashes or anything like that. The horses let out a few whinnies but that was about it."

"So, how many Bob-Whites were able to visit you before the storm started?" Brian took a small bite of his cinnamon roll, prepared to enjoy the delicacy as well as the conversation with one of his all-time favorite people.

Honey pulled down the dove-gray cotton throw that adorned the back of the sofa and smoothed it around her. Her ring-less fingers played with the ends of it as she admitted, trying her best to keep the disappointment out of her voice, "Only Dan, I'm afraid. Di couldn't come over. I know Mart was coming up to Regan's but he probably went straight over there in order to get out of the rain. I saw Jim, of course, but that doesn't count, does it? He's my brother and he lives here. You are actually the first Belden I've heard from all evening."

He nearly choked on his bite. Sitting up quickly, sneakers squeaking on the floorboards, he exclaimed, shocked, "What?"

Honey frowned, slightly taken aback by Brian's abrupt response. Giving a small shake to her head, she wondered if her fatigue was keeping her from holding up her end of the conversation. Was she reading him right? Was he surprised? If he was, what had he expected her to say? Nervously, she bit her bottom lip and inquired cautiously, "Why, Brian? Why are you so shocked that you are the first of your family to call me?"

He looked back into the house, thought about his sister, and began to rapidly see her behavior in a much different light. He began to methodically catalogue what he knew. She wanted to be alone. She hadn't wanted to be with their family. She hadn't wanted to answer his questions. In fact, the entire time they had spent together upstairs, he had been the one to instigate every section of their talk. She had only responded because she had to. Something was wrong but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. Honey would be a good ally. She would help him figure it out. "It's…odd, Honey," he finally remarked. "I talked to Trixie a few minutes ago and she led me to believe that she was at your house tonight. She started to walk up right after dinner to visit you. She should have made it to the Manor House before the storm started."

"No. She wasn't here tonight." Honey leaned forward and wrinkled her forehead until the throbbing at her temple reminded her that it wasn't a smart move. "She didn't visit me tonight, Brian. I haven't seen her since we left the hospital."

"She told me she had visited you." Then he caught himself, dissected what he could remember from their conversation, and amended quickly, "No, she didn't exactly tell me that. She implied it but…why on earth would she have tried to cover it up? It doesn't make any sense to me." He pushed himself up from the glider and paced over to the porch railing. A finger absently rubbed off the leftover moisture from the rain while he watched a tired, wet, and very muddy Reddy climb up the porch steps and flop onto the floor.

"I can't answer your question." Honey's pleasure at Brian's phone call was fading rapidly, caught up in concern for her friend. She stood up and walked over to the fireplace. She absently traced the polished mahogany mantel. She started to piece together what could have happened and hesitated only for a second before softly sharing, "Jim left right before the storm. He was going down to your house. He wanted to see Trixie. Did you see him tonight?" She nervously gritted her teeth while she waited for his answer.

Brian shook his head even though she couldn't see it. "No, he didn't. Jim didn't visit us tonight, either." He drummed a beat on the post. "Trixie was gone for a long time. She didn't come home until after the storm ended."

She was close to a conclusion, one that she didn't want to make. She picked up a framed picture of the seven Bob-Whites on the mantel, taking after her high school graduation, and studied the beaming faces of Trixie and Jim. Jim had an arm around her shoulder while Trixie stood as close to him as she could possibly get. Worried, Honey reluctantly started the next phase of the interrogation. "How was Trixie, Brian? Did she look any different to you?"

"No, she didn't. She…" wouldn't look him in the eyes, gave him short, abrupt answers, and had actually lied to him, one outright and a few by omission. Sighing, he ran a hand through his dark, wavy hair. "Yeah, she wasn't herself. I didn't realize it at the time. She was actually pretty good at hiding it. Normally I can see through her when she's trying to cover up her feelings. I thought she was still tired from yesterday."

"Hmm." She tapped her finger against her chin, digested the information, and felt a wave of sympathy for both her friend and her brother. "We're all probably still tired from yesterday. However, we can't overlook the fact that Trixie never made it to my house and that Jim never made it to yours. They were gone for the entire length of the storm. I think there is only one logical conclusion that we can come to, don't you?"

"Most likely," he muttered under his breath. "But, before we jump to that conclusion, no matter how logical it may be, we still haven't covered everything yet. We know about Trixie. What about Jim? How does he look? Is he acting any different?"

"He's not home…No, wait. I hear someone at the door now. It's got to be him." The front door opened, then closed with a quiet, almost eerie precision. Honey cradled the phone to her ear. She crossed the room and stood in the doorway, mumbling quietly into the phone, "Give me a minute, Brian. I'll be able to answer it then." Watching her brother stalk his way towards the staircase, she greeted him with the largest amount of cheerfulness that she could muster, "Hey, Jim!"

His hand rested on smooth, polished railing of the staircase while he barely resisted the urge to groan in disappointment. Hoping that his face didn't give anything away, he half-turned and nodded curtly at Honey. "Honey." Then, because he knew he couldn't uphold any kind of a conversation right now, he started up the staircase. The sanctuary of his room was calling to him.

"Brian," she sighed into the phone, ignoring the soft ache behind her forehead. Gentle fingers attempted to massage it away. "Jim completely blew me off. He's soaked through, too. He must have been out in the rain. From the one short look he gave me, I could tell that something is seriously wrong with him."

"They ran into each other. Most likely somewhere along the path," Brian surmised quietly. He could almost picture it in his minds. Two stubborn and hot-tempered people, exhausted and emotionally drained from a shared ordeal. While he couldn't put his finger on the contents of the fight, he wasn't overly surprised. To his way of thinking, they would simply have to make up for it afterwards. All they would need to do was talk it out, smooth it over, settle it and move on. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that it would be the exact road that the two took.

"And they had a fight." Honey exhaled slowly, her mind on the same wavelength as Brian's. "From the looks of Jim and what you told me about Trixie, it must have been a big one." She leaned against the doorframe, crossed her ankles, and pondered what the fight could have been about.

His cinnamon roll had cooled. He eyed it, decided he didn't want to finish it, and started to pace the entire length of the front porch. He didn't like the fact that his sister and his best friend were both unhappy. What a terrible weekend, he thought wearily, and dragged his hand through his hair again. He didn't know if getting involved would be a help or a hindrance. "What should we do, Honey?"

"We can't do a thing," she responded despairingly, despising the truth of her words. She smoothed a hand over her hair. "You know we can't, Brian. Trixie and Jim would absolutely hate it if any of us tried to get involved. They both have too much pride for that. They would only end up getting mad at us. Plus, we would probably only make matters worse. They're going to have to solve this one on their own."

"And they are both too stubborn for their own good." Brian came to the corner of the porch, wrapped a hand around the post and stared out into the large front yard. He contemplated what had happened and realized that he couldn't do much. Trixie would only yell at him or, worse, ignore him. He didn't quite know what Jim would do if he tried to play peacemaker. "You're right, Honey. We can't. They'll have to figure it out for themselves."

Honey closed her eyes and rested her hand on the doorknob. Then she tossed her head carefully, with deference to her wound. "While we can't do much, I am going to talk to him, though. There's no harm in knocking on his door, is there?" she questioned slyly.

Brian chuckled and made his way to the front door. "That's not a crime, Honey. Good luck with that." He looked into his house, up the stairs that led to Trixie's room, and recalled how her eyes hadn't sparkled with their normal shine. She wouldn't want company; had made it clear with her actions that she wanted to be alone. He was left with no other action but to honor it. "I don't think I'm going to try the same thing with Trixie, though. I have a strong feeling she's talked about as much as she is going to. I'll see how she is in the morning."

"That's a good idea. Maybe she'll have slept off any residual effects from their fight." Deciding it was time to end the call, Honey took a deep breath and then added into the phone, her voice whisper-soft and full of gratitude, "Thank you very much for calling me, Brian. I really appreciate it."

"I'll miss you at work tomorrow," Brian remarked without thinking and then found his face immediately turning the cursed shade of red that generally only affected the blonde Beldens. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, was one he could have definitely gone without. Stuttering, he tried to smooth it over, "I mean…I…"

Honey swallowed the small bubble of merry laughter and replied, "I'll miss seeing you at the office, too. I'll let you know when I've been cleared to go back. I'm keeping my fingers crossed for Wednesday." It was interesting to have her heart suddenly start to take wings when they were concerned about two of their best friends but there it was. She repressed another girlish giggle and said breathlessly, "Have a good night, Brian. Thanks for calling."

He repeated the farewell, a look of contentment on his face, "Good night, Honey."

She studied the inanimate object for a minute after disconnecting it, a secret smile of pure feminine delight curving her lips. Then Honey carefully placed it back onto its stand and walked up the large staircase, on her way to her unsuspecting prey. Along the way she wished that her head didn't have the dull throb to it any longer. If it hadn't, she would have been able to plan out something to say to Jim. As it was, she didn't have a clue about how to begin their conversation or what she intended to say to him. All she had was a fist to knock on the door and a greeting on her shaky lips. The thick carpeting muffled her footsteps. She stood in front of his door, squared her shoulders, and then quickly rapped on the door.

Jim dropped his head back, feeling physically drained and emotionally spent. During the trudge up from the clubhouse to his home, he had prayed that he would be able to get to his room without seeing anyone. In the spirit of the rotten luck that fate seemed to delight in throwing his way, he shouldn't have expected anything less than being spotted by Honey. So he had then hoped, really and truly hoped, that he would be able to stew in his room, alone, and without anyone visiting him. Of course, he wasn't going to be able to have that luxury, either. Attempting to make his expression as controlled as possible, unable to do anything about the strange mixture of unhappiness and anger glowing within the emerald of his eyes, he gave a weary sigh of resignation and pulled open the door. "Honey," he repeated again, unsurprised by her presence.

Her own need for sleep was no longer there. She took it all in, the damp hair, the damp shirt, the almost lost expression that he was trying hard to hide with a haunted ghost of a grin. Whatever had happened between the two had not been calm or civilized, of that she was sure. "Hi, Jim," she responded with forced cheer, pretending not to notice that he looked devastated and extremely unhappy. She pointed to his shirt. "Did you get caught in the storm?"

He felt the wet cotton material of his shirt, slightly shocked that he hadn't thought to take off his clothes yet. Now that she had mentioned it, he realized how truly cold he was. He was smart enough to know that he couldn't blame the rain for the chill. A shower would help warm him up. He turned and started rummaging through his drawers, rudely giving her his back. "Yeah. Something like that."

Normally, his blatant rudeness would have fired her up and she wouldn't have let him get away with it. Tonight was different. She somehow knew that she would have to accept it. Honey didn't enter the room, stayed on the threshold of the door, and mentioned idly, "I talked to Brian a few minutes ago. He was sorry that he wasn't able to make it up to the house tonight. The storm kept him away."

It was on the tip of his tongue to say that he wished it had kept all of the Beldens away before he shut his eyes tight. That wasn't the complete truth. He wished that it had kept everyone at home, including him. If that had happened, he wouldn't have run into Trixie on the path by the clubhouse. "I'm certain it kept others away, too," he remarked neutrally, his voice carefully controlled.

"Mart made it to Regan's apartment. Di wasn't able to come and I already saw Dan." With forced cheer and ultra sharp eyes, Honey added pointedly, "That only leaves Trixie. I haven't heard from her yet."

His back went ramrod straight. He slammed the drawer shut with more force than necessary and took his time turning around, with fresh clothes in his grip. He worked extra hard to pitch his voice low, to keep from letting her know that even the simple sound of her name had the power to hurt him right then. "You haven't? That's a surprise."

Sore spot. Quite a sore spot. Honey felt an overwhelming amount of sympathy well up within her again, both for her brother and her best friend, and debated on whether or not to push it any further. Her tender heart told her to stop but her instincts urged her on. And her instincts won out. "Brian also said that Trixie started up for our house well before the arrival of the storm. I remember that you were heading down to her house at around the same time. Did you happen to run into her?"

He considered lying, figured it would be the perfect way to cap off a totally horrendous evening. The words were ready to form when he answered with the truth instead, "Yeah. I saw her."

When he didn't elaborate, Honey blew out a small breath. He wouldn't give anymore, not without more pushing or prodding on her part. She didn't have it in her to do that to him, not when he was looking so down and her head was still pounding. She didn't need to go for the jugular, not when she already knew. Haltingly, she declared, "Brian and I have already figured it out, Jim. You two must have had one heck of a fight."

He whipped his head up, stared her straight in the eyes. The temptation to talk it out, to share it with her, was close to the surface. He almost wanted to do it, to give in and have someone he considered a sane person listen to his side of the story. But he couldn't. Not when he had recently finished blasting Trixie for talking to someone else about them. He wasn't that miserable that he was willing to turn himself into a hypocrite. "I'm not going to talk to you about it, Honey. It wouldn't be fair, to you or to Trixie. It's between us."

She pursed her lips, stared him up and down, and saw the rigidity in his stance. She could poke all she wanted but she wasn't going to make him back down. He was going to stand firm. "All right," she proclaimed after a moment. "I'll give you that one. But you need to know that I'm here for you…and for Trixie, should either one of you need me. We're friends, family, and Bob-Whites above all else."

He smiled tightly. "Give us some time, Honey." He wanted to add that they would work it out but the pain of the argument was much too fresh, much too new. In the few fights that they had partaken in over the years, he couldn't ever remember one leaving him feeling so raw and exposed. And, even worse, so at odds.

"I'll be satisfied with that, too." She wanted to go to him, to give him a hug if nothing else, but he didn't want that. He wanted to be left alone right now. Respecting his wishes, she drew back into the hallway. "Have a good night, Jim." When he didn't answer, she closed the door behind her.

In serious need of a distraction, Jim found himself in front of his laptop. Firing it up, he waited the necessary moments until it was ready with a blank expression on his face. He checked his email first, was surprised to note a message from his advisor for his summer internship to call him back at his earliest convenience. Judging from the small digital numbers in the corner of his screen, he knew it was too late to try to call back now. Pitifully thankful to have something constructive to do, he typed in a quick response, letting his advisor know that he would get in touch with him early in the morning.

Finished with the small task, Jim shut down the computer and then tore off his shirt. Generally more meticulous with his clothes, he threw it into the corner of his room. Shoes and socks were next. The shoes landed with a satisfying thud. Clad only in his shorts, Jim crossed the wide expanse of his bedroom and leaned against the window, his forehead touching the smoothness of the glass. The glass felt cool and refreshing against his skin. He stared down in the direction of her house, ignorant of the encroaching darkness as it lazily spread its way across the front lawn. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't shut off his mind. It kept replaying the fight, over and over again. Some of his points were just plain stupid, as were some of hers. Others were….right. Emitting a loud groan, he wished that they had waited until later to have attempted for explanations and clarifications of their misunderstandings. With two individuals who shared both stubbornness and a quick temper, he couldn't help but see the folly of it now. "We should have waited," he grumbled to himself, rubbing a tired hand across his eyes.

With nothing else to keep him occupied from his thoughts and his memories, he ended up sitting on his bed, with the items he had collected for his shower next to him, forgotten. While he was tired and sleep would have been really useful, he found himself looking ahead and thinking about her. If only he had shown a little more patience or a little more control. But he hadn't…and, he thought with a trace of bitterness, neither had she. They had both pushed each other to the edge and then had been unable to stop themselves from tumbling headlong over it. The only certainty he owned now was the fact that he loved her. That hadn't changed; would never change, as far as he was concerned. But it didn't help him figure out what the next step should be. "What the hell are we going to do now?" His voice cut through the stillness of the room. Not surprisingly, he didn't get an answer. Standing up, he grabbed his things and moved towards the door. He was going to start small. A shower was needed, both to warm him up and to help clear his mind. Then he would try to sleep. Maybe, just maybe, the morning would bring the answers that they needed.


	22. Chapter 22

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Twenty-One

When the sunlight filtered through the billowing curtains, it slanted with a merciless brightness across her face. Trixie groaned and squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to block it out. She dove back into her pillow but it wasn't enough. The damage was done. Awakened from the pitiful amount of sleep she had been able to gleam through yet another long and endless night, she tossed back the thin cotton blanket and found the floor. Her feet touched the crumpled gray T-shirt she had thrown off the second she had reentered her room, right after her talk with Brian. She had replaced it with a black one. The color had been a good choice. It had reflected her mood. One long stretch, one broad yawn, and she was up, if not exactly alert.

After a change of clothes, a trip to the bathroom, and a quick brush of her curls, Trixie couldn't put off the inevitable any longer. She had to face her family. She could already hear the sounds of most of the Beldens stirring. Another hard stare in the bathroom mirror had shown that she wasn't looking much better than she had the night before. However, it had given her a great excuse, one she was perfectly willing to hide behind. If anyone asked, she was simply going to tell them that she hadn't been sleeping well. It was not the whole truth but she figured it was good enough. Even better, with the violet smudges under her eyes, it was entirely believable.

Squaring her shoulders, she walked with deliberate slowness down the stairs, through the quiet living room and down the hall that would take her into the noisy kitchen. Two steps away from joining them, Trixie paused and took the scene in. As always, the room was crowded. The only person unaccounted for was Bobby. She guessed correctly that he was upstairs, sleeping still. Her mother was at the stove, flipping pancakes with a smile on her face while her father filled up juice glasses. She studied them covertly from the doorway, noted the easy smile her mother gave her father after he brushed a soft kiss against her forehead. She bit her bottom lip and wondered if her parents had ever had a huge disagreement. Not to her knowledge but then she couldn't ever recall anything other than the united, solid front that they had always presented to their children. Next, she scanned the rest of the room. Mart was dressed for work, holding a mug of coffee in one hand while reclining at his spot at the table. Even though there was nothing on his plate, his fork was in his other hand in preparation for the meal. He flashed a quick grin at something Brian had said to him. Brian looked extremely professional, in his khaki pants, white shirt and dark blue tie. He was leaning against the counter and was the first to see her.

Because he was the only one she had talked to last night and the only one who could possibly have a remote inkling that all was not perfect with her, Trixie painted as wide of a smile of greeting on her face as she could and unobtrusively slipped into her seat. She knew she should offer to help but she doubted if she could go through the motions without messing the contents of the breakfast up. When her mother slid a stack of delicious smelling pancakes, a plate of crispy bacon, and a bowl of fresh fruit onto the table a few minutes later, she tried not to let her lack of appetite show.

"Good morning, Trixie," Helen greeted her only daughter and then joined the others at the table. "It's lovely to see you about so early. You could have slept in longer if you had wanted to."

Trixie accepted her glass of juice from her father and took a tiny sip. She nodded her greeting to her mother but did not attempt to force any words out past her throat. She found refuge in filling up her plate with food that she wasn't even going to attempt to eat. Catching a pleading Reddy out of the corner of her eye, she tapped her thigh lightly under the table and quietly began to slip him bits and pieces of her food.

The only one with an inside track, Brian covertly watched his sister throughout the morning meal while his mother, father and brother carried the conversation. He nearly smiled at the way she pretended to eat but gave her food to Reddy instead, who was sitting at her thigh and looking up at her in absolute adoration. He noticed that she didn't say more than a single word at one time to anyone at the table, and that was only when someone asked her a direct question. His frown darkened when he remembered his talk with Honey and the conclusion the two of them had come to. He wondered if Honey would have had any luck getting information out of Jim. Most likely not. His best friend was notoriously tight-lipped when it came to certain things. Fortunately for Trixie, or unfortunately for him, it was his own lack of conversational skill that was called into question as the meal winded down.

"Has it escaped your attention that your eldest child has not uttered a single word during our morning repast?" Mart broke in jokingly. Grinning broadly, he reached over the plate he had practically licked clean and nudged Brian's shoulder. "What gives, Brian? Why are you so silent this morning?"

Helen suspected her eldest was thinking more about a certain young lady resting high on the hill and less about the weather and the plans of the day for the other Beldens in their household. She incorrectly attributed his worry and concern over Honey Wheeler to his lack of participation. "I'm certain Brian has other things on his mind, Mart," she admonished him gently.

Brian opened his mouth, ready to defend himself, when the phone rang. "I'll get it," he said instead and jumped up gratefully to answer it. For once, his movements resembled his younger siblings instead of his more subdued ones. "Hello?" His face quickly went red and his eyebrows snapped together when he heard the person on the other end. "I don't know," he finally concluded after a long, tense moment of silence. "It's not my choice to make." He knew what he wanted to do and eyed the red disconnect button fiercely. He felt other than saw the interested looks coming his way and offered the cordless to Trixie, uncertain if she would take it or not. "It's for you, Trix. It's Mr. Lytell."

Her eyes grew to twice their normal size. She hadn't expected him to call. In fact, she hadn't expected to ever see him again, let alone talk to him, especially if he was the one to voluntarily initiate it. On legs that threatened to buckle, she stood up before her forceful nature kicked in. She wasn't going to let him win. Throwing back her head with a strain of haughty defiance she hadn't even known she possessed, Trixie accepted the phone and walked towards the back door where she could talk in private, away from her very curious family.

Her parents busied themselves by unloading the table of its dishes and silverware. They looked occupied. They acted engaged in their tasks. But they were each keeping an ear open to the telephone conversation taking place on the back porch. In a show of sibling solidarity against one cantankerous and seriously disliked store owner, Mart and Brian were more obvious. They scooted their chairs together and stared out the screen door, unashamedly watching Trixie as she engaged in her first actual conversation of the day. They wore identical frowns at the way Trixie intentionally kept her back to them. "What do you think that bas…jerk is saying to her?" Mart whispered under his breath, quickly altering his first choice of description when he caught the steely-eyed glare his mother aimed in his direction.

"If he's smart, he's apologizing to her," Brian murmured back, one edge of his lip curled up at Mart' deference to his mother's unvoiced command. "He's had almost two days to calm down and to analyze his reaction when he first came onto the scene. He has to realize that he was out of line with blaming Trixie for what happened at the store. Even if he doesn't actually mean it, he has to apologize. Otherwise, I can't imagine anyone within ten miles of Crabapple Farm who would willingly walk back into his store. Trixie is rather well-known and well-liked in these parts, you know," he finished truthfully and with a glint of pride for his sister in his eyes.

"That's what I think, too." Mart then grinned and tossed back his head, in the exact same gesture his sister had used a few minutes earlier. His voice carried his trademark acerbic tone that he reserved specially for his sister but he meant every word that he said. "As much as it pains me to admit it, the people of Sleepyside do tend to idolize her."

Remembering Sax Jenner and what he had attempted to do, Brian responded, a bit darkly and truthfully, "Most people, Mart. But not all. Not everyone likes Trixie. She's made her share of enemies here, too."

Mart couldn't mistake the meaning. "I stand corrected," he replied with a small sigh. He didn't like knowing that his sister had been the target. Then he leaned closer, so their parents couldn't hear them, "You know, I only brought up the fact that you were unusually quiet this morning to disguise the fact that Trixie isn't even close to resembling herself. She's the one who has been acting odd here, not you. She's only been going through the motions. In fact, I don't think she tasted one bite of her food. She gave it all of it to Reddy. He's not going to have to eat for a week straight. What gives, Brian?"

He downed the rest of his coffee and pitched his voice low, "I didn't catch the signals in time last night when we ran into each other in the hallway. It didn't even occur to me until I was talking to Honey that something was wrong. She was surprisingly good at hiding it or maybe I was too caught up in my own thoughts to realize I was missing something. Who knows?" He shrugged his shoulders. "Honey and I have a hypothesis, Mart. Before we hung up last night, we came to the conclusion that Trixie and Jim must have had a fight. They both have the same symptoms. They were tired, moody, and wanted to be left alone. And, I guarantee you, if we were to call Honey and ask her how Jim was at breakfast, she would tell us that he didn't eat or speak much, either."

"Sounds like you are right." Mart hid his own grimace behind the rim of his mug, slowly digesting the news. As much as he enjoyed poking fun at his sister, he did not like to see her hurt. He shut his mouth when he saw her start back towards the kitchen. "She's coming back in, Brian," he warned sharply.

She sailed back into the room as if she didn't have a care in the world. After placing the cordless back on its base, she carried her empty plate over to the sink where her mother accepted it with a small smile. Then she went back to the table and began clearing the remains of it off, not offering a word of her phone call with Mr. Lytell to the four extremely interested people in the room, and pretending to not notice how her family was trying not to burst with the questions they wanted to ask.

Mart was the first to give in. "Trixie!" he exploded, unable to take the silence or his impatience anymore. He put down his mug with a smart snap on the wooden table and slitted his eyes. "Come on! We are finally the ones who are practically 'dying' of curiosity here. Aren't you going to tell us what happened with Mr. Lytell? What did he want from you?"

With a small return of her spunk, Trixie met his irritated glare with an innocent look of her own and inquired casually, "What are you curious about, Mart?" She placed a hand on the table and attempted an innocent expression.

"Hah, hah," he laughed back at her and jerked a thumb at the clock that was merrily ticking away the minutes. "Enough with the teasing. We don't have much time left this morning, Trix. A few of us are going to have to leave in a couple of minutes. What did old man Lytell want to talk to you about?"

"Mart," Helen mumbled under her breath, taking umbrage with the disrespectful title he used.

Mart held out his hands, palms up. "Moms, that's one of the most G-Rated expletive I can think of to use to describe him."

Trixie surprised herself by chuckling. It had a rusty quality to it and didn't bubble with her normal joy. She didn't have the energy to tease her brother anymore. Much to his chagrin, she gave up too easily and explained to her fascinated audience, "He wanted to apologize for blaming me for the other day." Mr. Lytell hadn't been able to completely disguise how distasteful it had been for him to offer his apologies to her. It had taken quite an effort for him. Trixie had heard it in the wooden and artificial words. He hadn't really forgiven her or stopped blaming her.

"He better have said more than that," Peter grouched under his breath, a return of fire to his dark eyes, and leaned forward. Helen shushed him and turned off the running water. She wiped her hands on a dish towel and joined her husband at the counter while they waited patiently for Trixie to share more over their phone call.

"He did, Daddy." Trixie gifted her father with a tiny smile, again noting the solid unit her parents always presented to their children. Their support was something she could always count on, even if they thought her ideas were a little farfetched or were scared by whatever mystery she had discovered. They had never once let her down. "He said that he saw things differently after talking with Sergeant Molinson and he realized that it wasn't my fault that his store was involved in an attempted robbery."

"More likely he realized that he lost ninety-five percent of his paying customers," Brian noted with an upraised eyebrow. "He wouldn't have had many once word got out on how he treated you."

Trixie didn't feel any vindication at the truth behind Brian's words. She slightly astonished that she hadn't felt anything after Mr. Lytell's stiff attempt at an apology. No gratefulness, no relief, no gratitude. She had felt…nothing. "Maybe. Maybe not. Anyway, it doesn't matter why he wanted to apologize to me. He did. He also offered me my job back at the store." When she sat down at the table and calmly finished off her juice, in no apparent hurry to get ready for a shift at the store, the Beldens released a collective sigh of relief.

"You declined," Peter inferred astutely and lifted his mug in a toast to her, proud of his princess. "Good for you, Trixie."

An actual smile, one that reached her eyes, spread across her face. It was nice to have approval from her family. "Yeah. I did accept his apology, since that was the polite thing to do." She hadn't wanted to, had been more than willing to overlook it, but the need to close out that rather messy chapter of her life in as gracious of a way as possible had been strong. Her parents had also done their best to drum polite manners into her since she was a toddler. She didn't regret accepting the apology and she definitely didn't regret refusing the job offer. "But I am not going to even set foot in that store again. Good-bye, strawberry pop!"

"Well, look at the time," Helen declared to three of the most important men in her life after nodding her head in approval at the way Trixie had handled Mr. Lytell. "We could sit around here for the rest of the day or you could all go to work. It is a Monday, after all, and I know none of you want to be late!" She shooed the men out with a smile for her sons and a kiss for her husband. When the kitchen had emptied, she turned to Trixie and offered, "We can divide up the chores that need to be done today between us, dear. Chore number one is waking Bobby up, getting him ready, and then chauffeuring him around for the day. He needs to go to practice for his swim team at the community center. Then he has to meet his Boy Scout troop for a community service project at the town park. They are putting in a garden. Either you or I would need to stay and help supervise. Chore number two is seeing to the house and cleaning up the mess. Which would you rather do, Trixie?" Helen's lip twitched while she waited for Trixie's answer. There wasn't a doubt in her mind which one her daughter would want to do.

Trixie's answer shocked her mother. "I'll stay home, Moms, if that's okay with her. I'll be glad to see to the house." Trixie calmly took over at the sink and missed the way her mother's mouth fell open in astonishment.

"Okay, then," Helen murmured, frowning at Trixie's back. She would have laid money down on Trixie wanting to get out of the house. Never had she expected her daughter to volunteer to clean the house. Her eyes sharpened while she began to wonder what could have made her decide to stay home. Then she sighed. She was going to have all morning and most of the afternoon to ponder it. There was nothing quite like watching a swim team practice or assisting supervising a group of pre-teen boys, especially when the troop included the Lynch twins. She seriously thought about taking an aspirin or two to prevent the headache she just knew was going to be there by the time she got home. "Well, I'll go wake up Bobby and start prodding him along. You, ah, you take care of the house, Trixie. We'll be back later in the afternoon." One more puzzled look and Helen went out the door.

She was secretly delighted to have chores to keep her busy. She was even more delighted to have the entire house to herself. She breathed a huge sigh of relief forty-five minutes later when her mother and Bobby pulled out of the driveway. After giving Reddy a fond pet and thanking him for his help with her breakfast, Trixie took her time and actually cleaned the house the way her mother had taught her to do, for possibly the first time ever. She didn't skip any steps or look for any shortcuts. Each time she started to slip into thoughts of Jim and their fight, she only worked harder, scrubbed longer. It wasn't long before the kitchen, the downstairs bathroom, and the living room was sparkling as if Helen had been the one cleaning it.

When the phone rang around lunch time, Trixie answered it automatically. "Hello?"

"Hi, Trix," Honey replied, twirling a strand of hair around her fingers. She had debated all morning on whether or not she should push Trixie into coming up to visit her. A trip to Crabapple Farm was out. She wasn't allowed to leave the house yet. Finally, her impatience had won out. She wanted to see her best friend…and she wanted to find out more about her fight with Jim. Jim had been extra quiet and acted disconsolately all day. "What are you up to right now?"

Trixie stared down at the dustrag in her hand with morbid fascination. "Believe it or not, I'm cleaning," she said with an overly dry tone to her voice. Some of her humor was starting to return, whether from a morning full of physical labor or because she wasn't as fatigued as she had been. "Moms is driving Bobby around to his various events of the day. That leaves me home to take care of the house. I'm actually the only Belden home right now. Everyone else is busy outside of the house."

Honey looked at the clock. "Good. It's almost lunchtime. Do you want to come up and have lunch with me or would you rather come up after lunch?" She phrased the question carefully, not wanting to give Trixie an out, and waited for the answer.

"Ah," Trixie stammered and then closed her eyes. She had to see Honey. She wanted to see Honey. She simply wasn't sure about seeing Jim yet. She definitely didn't want to sit across the table from him, with Honey and his parents present, through one of their fancier lunches. "I still have a few more things to finish up down here. How about if I come up a little later?" she hedged carefully.

Honey was smart enough to not let her disconnect before she had extracted a promise from her best friend. "I will see you soon, then. Not for lunch but later, right? Promise me?"

"Of course," Trixie replied without hesitation and then could have cheerfully kicked herself. She had just promised to go to the Manor House where she would most certainly run into Jim. Lovely, she thought sarcastically. "Yes. I'll be up as soon as I finish…" She let the sentence trail off, uncertain what to say next. To her knowledge, she had completed as much of the cleaning as her imagination would allow her to. She couldn't think of anything else that needed done in the house.

Honey nodded her head, pleased with her work. "I'll see you soon. Around two, right? Will that give you enough to finish your chores?" A giggle almost escaped from her twitching lips. Whether Trixie realized it or not, she had been well and truly cornered.

Trixie bit back a resigned sigh. "Two it is, Honey. Have a good lunch." Then she ended the call and collapsed onto a slightly shabby chair that had lasted through many years in their household. "Great," she grouched, staring down at the floor. "Just great." She studied the phone carefully, almost taking the coward's way out and calling Honey up to cancel. With a snort, she decided she couldn't do that. Her word had been given and she wasn't going to back out on it, even if it meant the possibility of seeing the person who had thrown her into such a maelstrom of conflicting and unpleasant emotions. Deciding that moping around wasn't going to get her anywhere, Trixie put away all of her cleaning supplies and then went upstairs to change out of her clothes.

She left the house a little before two after leaving a short note for her mother about her whereabouts. Clad in ragged cut-offs and a dark gray tank-top, Trixie trudged slowly up the path to the Manor House. For the first time she could ever remember, she did not want to run into one James Winthrop Frayne the II. Her thoughts were too scattered. Her emotions were too raw. And she didn't have a clue what to say to him or how to react to whatever he said to her. Her whirlwind of cleaning hadn't helped matters as much as she had hoped it would. Feeling miserable, she cut across the lawn and slowly started up the wide steps, her movements more reminiscent of a prisoner walking the plank with a sword at her back instead of a person visiting a close and beloved friend.

She clenched her teeth nervously while she waited for her knock to be answered and blew out a sigh of relief when it was Mr. Wheeler who answered the door. One possible chance meeting down. She forced her eyes to remain on him and not to search out the interior of the house. "Hello, Mr. Wheeler," she responded cordially.

He smiled down at her. "Hello, Trixie. So, which of my children are you here to see? Is it that pretty girl of mine or my handsome son?" He rubbed his hands together in glee and waited for her answer.

He usually asked her a question like this. Forcing her lips to turn up at the corners, hoping she looked relaxed and somewhere in the vicinity of happy, she answered with as much cheer as she could garner, "It's Honey right now. I didn't get a chance to see her yesterday. I talked to her a while ago on the phone and she asked me to come up to visit her."

"It's good that you are here now," Matthew remarked and stepped back to let her in. "She's missed you. That darn storm kept everyone away last night. You can hang out with Honey first. Jim will be back soon. He ran into town to pick up a few necessities for his upcoming camping trip. He'll be leaving soon, you know."

He wasn't there. She wasn't certain if she should be relieved to have been given a reprieve or disappointed because they weren't going to get their first face-to-face meeting over with. She hated the inconsistent and disagreeable emotions that seemed to be assaulting her at every turn and swallowed a sigh. "Oh?" she responded. Intent on watching Jim's father, she missed the sight of two large, stuffed suitcases and a matching carry-on bag residing on the floor.

Matthew led her through the large foyer and towards the hallway. "Yes. I'm certain he's already talked to you about it, anyway. He had to go into town to get his supplies for the trip a little earlier than he expected. You know Jim. He always likes to be prepared." It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her why she hadn't gone on the shopping trip with Jim but he didn't mention it. He gestured down the hall and announced, "Honey's resting in the living room. She's waiting on you. Go on in, Trixie. She'll be delighted to see you. She's missed you a lot." A big smile and a cheerful wave and he headed off in the direction of the kitchen, already pondering what kind of delicacy he could charm out of their cook.

She stared after him, curious about the reason why Jim had to go into town to buy supplies 'earlier than he had expected', and then rushed the rest of the way down the long hall, oblivious to the beautiful works of art that dotted the walls. She arrived at the living room a little breathlessly and came to a halting stop. Her face lit it with a semblance of her normal cheerfulness when she saw her friend, standing over by the trio of large windows. "Hey, Honey!"

Honey turned, a huge smile adorning her face. "Finally!" she gasped out and moved as quickly as she dared to cross the room and throw her arms around her friend as if it had been years since they had last seen each other instead of merely a day. She held on tight, delighted to see Trixie again. "Thank goodness you're here, Trixie. I've been dying to see you!"

"Normally it's me who's doing the dying," Trixie quipped back, for the first time in nearly two days starting to feel like herself. She hugged Honey back. "I am sorry I wasn't able to come by yesterday," she said sincerely.

"I understand, Trixie. You don't need to apologize. The weather didn't cooperate at all. There's no need to mention it again. The important thing is that you are here now." Honey spoke quicker than normal. She concentrated on studying her friend through deceptively shrewd eyes and saw beyond the dark shadows under Trixie's eyes. Biting the inside of her mouth, she noticed that her smile that was just a shade smaller than her usually bright one. The blue of her eyes didn't sparkle. And she was pale. Misery was here, too. Honey had seen it looking back at her at the breakfast and the lunch table. What could she do about it? she wondered to herself, her tender heart hurting for both her best friend and her brother.

Trixie flopped down on the sofa and pointed to Honey's forehead, pleased with what she saw. "Your bruise is already looking better, Honey. It's not as swollen as it was yesterday. Di would be jealous if she saw it. It's an extremely nice shade of purple."

A laugh gurgled out. "Di does love purple, doesn't she?" Honey sat down with a little more decorum than Trixie and gingerly touched her bruise. "My head is feeling better, too. When I woke up this morning, I could tell something was different. It's the first time I haven't had that funny ache behind my temple. It's great to finally have my head feeling like it should. I despised the silly ache that wouldn't leave no matter how much sleep I got or how carefully I rested my head."

She was beginning to feel the most comfortable she had felt in almost too long for her to remember. Talking with Honey always helped her out. "When will you be able to return to work?" Trixie inquired curiously and felt some of the tension she had carried through the night and the day begin to leave her body.

"I begged my parents to let me go to work this Wednesday. They finally agreed to let me go in for half a day. If I don't get too tired and Dr. Ferris feels it will be fine, then I can go in for a full day on Thursday." Honey chuckled softly and added, "It helps a lot that I'm working at Dr. Ferris' office. My parents know that I will be watched at all times, both by him, the nurses and your oldest brother. If anyone suspects that I'm pushing myself too hard, I will be sent home in a New York minute."

Trixie stiffened slightly when Honey brought up her parents, recalling the conversation she had overheard in the hospital, and ordered herself to relax. Unable to come out and ask her completely, especially when Honey was beginning to feel normal, Trixie hedged around, "You really are feeling good, Honey? No lasting effects?"

Other than the fact that she wasn't certain what her career goals were anymore? Or that she was nearly one hundred percent certain that she didn't have any desire to become a private detective? Honey dropped her eyes, stared down at the ground, and exhaled slowly. "Nothing physical," she murmured softly. "Except for the memory loss, of course."

"Do you want it to come back?" Trixie picked up a small decorative vase and turned it over in her hands. She idly noticed that it was painted a deep shade of blue, with brilliantly red poppies painted across it. She watched Honey closely out of the corner of her eyes in order to gauge her reaction.

Honey tilted her head to the side and played with the edges of the cushion. The nightmare she had experienced during her night in the hospital had recurred last night. Only this time, she hadn't had her brother there to soothe her and help her go back to sleep. She declared after a moment of quiet contemplation, "No. I don't. I think I would rather not know. No, Trixie. I don't want my memory of that incident to ever come back. I would rather forget all about it."

Trixie nodded in complete understanding. It would have bothered her to no end not to know what had happened if she had been in Honey's shoes, as her confrontation with Jim the night before clearly attested to. She replaced the vase carefully. "I can see that, Honey. You do know that I am so sorry about it, don't you?"

Honey slapped a hand on the gleaming mahogany of the coffee table. "Trixie Belden, if you apologize to me once more for something that you had absolutely no control over…I'm going to…" she sputtered to a stop, unable to think of something suitable to threaten her with, and ended up dissolving into a fit of giggles. "I don't know what I'm going to do, Trixie, but once I figure it out, I am going to do it. So you had better not apologize to me again. Got it?"

For the first time in nearly forty-eight hours, Trixie felt an actual laugh bubble and spill out of her. It felt so good that she let another one out. "Oh, Honey," she said, collapsing against her on the sofa. She smiled appreciatively. "You are so good for me. Thanks, Honey."

"I'm glad that you can recognize that fact," Honey teased, her hazel eyes alight with shared joy. With Trixie so approachable and open, she decided that there wasn't any harm in asking. "But I don't think you're going to be so happy with me when I ask you a question."

Trixie lifted her eyebrows and braced herself. The smile fell off of her face. She somehow knew what was going to come next. So far, no one had called her on her subdued behavior or had even appeared to notice. She twisted her hands nervously, cleared her throat, and mentally prepared herself. "What question, Honey?"

Honey met her gaze squarely and refused to look away. She wasn't going to let Trixie off the hook. She wanted to find out something about the fight, to see if there was something she could do to help the two patch things up quicker. "What happened between you and Jim last night? I know it couldn't have been good, whatever it was. I tried to get him to tell me when he came home last night but he refused to tell me a thing."

Trixie felt a flush stain her cheeks as her suspicions were confirmed. "Oh," she mumbled, glancing down at her suddenly clenched hands. A curl tumbled across her forehead. She blew it out of the way, only to have it fall back onto its same spot, and then ended up tucking it behind her ear. "Well."

"Oh, well," Honey repeated sympathetically, missing nothing. She had never seen Trixie look so…sad before. She dropped an arm around her shoulder and shared softly, "Jim already told me that he wouldn't tell me anything about it. As much as I hate to say it, I have a feeling that you are gearing up to tell me the same thing, aren't you?"

Her face looked both sheepish and guilty. "I don't think it would be good to drag you into it, Honey. It's between Jim and me." She gave Honey an awkward hug before getting up and restlessly started pacing around the room. She hadn't forgotten how upset he had been with her for talking to Dan, no matter how innocent she had thought it to be. As much as it pained her to admit it, he had been right. She shouldn't have been talking to someone else about their personal issues. The only person she should have brought it to was Jim, even though he had insisted on waiting to talk until later. She tapped a finger against her thigh and announced, "It wouldn't be fair to you, Honey. I don't want to put you or any of the other Bob-Whites in the middle of this, of whatever this is. Jim wouldn't want that, either."

Honey followed her over to the window and refused to let her shoulders slump in defeat. With as much cheer as she could produce, she declared, "That's exactly what I thought you would say. I know this is a useless question but I have to ask it. There's nothing I can do to change your mind, is there?"

The hopeful tone to her voice made Trixie's lips curve into a semblance of a smile. "No, Honey. I hesitate to say it to you again but I really am sorry. I can't tell you, not this time. It wouldn't be right."

Honey overlooked a third apology in the span of fifteen minutes with a roll of her eyes. "Since I'm not going to get anywhere with you, I'll tell you the same thing I told Jim, then. I'm here for you, Trix. No matter what." Then she inhaled a breath and shared, "I didn't say this to Jim last night but I respect your decision to keep it between you. That's exactly what I would do, if I was in your shoes."

Trixie stared down at her worn sneakers that still had traces of mud on them from the day before and then glanced at Honey's tasteful dark brown flats. "I don't think you would like my shoes," she announced at a brave attempt at humor.

"Oh, Trixie. I love everything about you!" Honey declared loyally, appreciative of the way Trixie had deliberately steered the conversation away from the fight and tried to bring some levity back to the situation. "And you don't have to worry about that brother of mine. He loves you too much. Whatever happened last night will blow over and you two will be back together as the longest and most solid Bob-White couple that we have!"

Trixie wanted desperately to believe Honey's words. She wasn't certain about the 'blowing over' aspect. About to respond, she saw a vehicle outside that grabbed her attention and wouldn't let go. A very familiar-looking Jeep was parked in the driveway, boldly residing between the house and the stables. The driver's side door was flung open. Suitcases were placed on the driveway next to it. Plastic shopping bags littered the ground. She didn't have to be an aspiring detective with numerous solved mysteries under her belt to know who was packing up to leave. "Honey," she began, her voice sounding unfamiliar to her own ears, while the small bits of information Matthew Wheeler had given her earlier took on a new and not entirely nice meaning.

Bewildered at the tone of her friend's voice, Honey looked at her warily out of the corner of her eyes. "What is it, Trixie?"

She jabbed her finger angrily against the innocent pane of glass. "Why is Jim packing up his car?" She didn't need Honey to confirm her suspicions; she already had the answer. With the suitcases and supplies that were waiting to be loaded, his intentions were painfully obvious. He was leaving.

The words came out easily although Honey had a hard time figuring out why Trixie seemed stunned. "He had to talk to his advisor today about his internship. He got an urgent email from him last night but it was too late to call him back. They need him to report to his orientation tomorrow morning instead of on Wednesday. I'm not certain what happened. I think there was a mix-up in the original dates that the advisor was giving or something. His advisor was going to try to decipher what had happened. Jim told him that he didn't have a problem with reporting in a day early." She covered up her mouth when it became clear to her that Trixie hadn't known about Jim's plans. "Oh, my! Trixie! You didn't know. He didn't tell you." It was meant to be a question but it came out as a statement instead.

The earlier return to her normal self was long gone, replaced with another bubbling cauldron of stewing fury. He had had the entire day to let her know about his change in plans, she thought wildly. She hadn't left the house. He hadn't thought to call her, was obviously planning on heading out without so much as a handshake or a farewell. "No, he most certainly did not," she retorted, a spark of battle lighting up the sapphire of her eyes. She suggested, more to herself than to Honey, "Maybe I should go and see if he needs some help." Then she whirled around.

Mouth agape, Honey watched her stomp out of the room, uncertain how or even if she could stop her. Left with no other options, she reached up and opened up the window. If she couldn't prevent it, the least she could do was watch it. Neither of them would tell her about what happened afterwards anyway, she reasoned to herself, and leaned in closer until her nose was pressed up against the screen.


	23. Chapter 23

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jim leaned into the backseat of his Jeep and surveyed the available room. While he loved his car, the backseat did not offer the storage space that most other vehicles had. It was going to be quite a puzzle to fit all of his belongings inside it for the next thirteen days. Deciding it would be best to stuff the suitcases in first and then see how much room he had left over, he reached down and hauled the first one in. It took up more room than he had expected. A disgruntled sigh burst past his lips. He stared back at the rest of his things. There was another suitcase of the same size and the shopping bags filled with toiletries and other supplies. Plus there was a carry-on shoulder bag still in the house. He shook his head, briefly wondering if he had over-packed for the upcoming trip. Worse, he couldn't dredge up an ounce of excitement over the opportunity. Leaving Sleepyside was the last thing he wanted to do right now.

He was jolted out of his contemplations when the carry-on bag landed on the gravel next to his car with a decidedly loud thump. "Thanks," he replied, erroneously believing that it was either his father or his sister bringing him the last of his belongings. He shifted his gaze to the next suitcase, preparing to grab it next, and caught the sight of two worn, lived-in sneakers on the blacktop of his driveway. The feet were much too small to belong to a male. Definitely not his father, he realized with a tiny grin, and decided it had to be Honey offering him assistance.

"I'm not looking for your thanks," a familiar, and a not-too-happy, voice announced from behind him.

Trixie. Jim's eyes snapped open while a look of chagrin briefly washed across his face. He hadn't been able to decide exactly how to tell her that he was leaving for New York City a day earlier than he had originally expected. He had debated it, chewed on it, and mulled it over all morning long while he packed for the trip until he had finally driven into town for his shopping in order to hopefully gain a different view on the best possible way to handle it. It hadn't been difficult to come to the conclusion that a phone call wasn't the best way to contact her; he needed to tell her about the change in plans face-to-face and in person. The fact that it was the next item to be completed on his agenda didn't mean much now, not when it was obvious that she was not very pleased with him at the moment. Gritting his teeth, he wished he had been able to instigate the meeting between them instead of having Trixie happen upon him. With his mind whirling with one hundred different options to say to her, and none of them satisfying or helpful, he slowly climbed back out of the Jeep and turned around to face her.

Normally, she would have taken the time to appreciate the view of her boyfriend leaning into the backseat of his car. Not today. She pressed a hand to her hip. The belligerence in her stance couldn't be missed or overlooked. One eyebrow was cocked high while her lips were pulled down in a hostile frown. She almost reached up and took off the tinted sunglasses that were hiding his eyes from her view. "Going somewhere, Jim?" she questioned sarcastically and gestured towards the large amount of items practically begging to be loaded up.

"Yeah," he responded after he was back on his two feet and kept a wary distance of about six feet between them. With the bloodthirsty gleam to her eyes, he thought it would be best for his health not to get too close to her right now. "I'll, ah, I'll be heading out soon. I have to drive to my apartment this evening. I need to be there by tomorrow."

"Right. Your orientation has been changed to tomorrow," Trixie completed for him, her eyes boring a hole straight through him. She could feel anger and resentment beginning to build up within her and closed her eyes briefly to grab command of the two strong feelings. She hooked a thumb over her shoulder towards the window where Honey was eagerly observing the proceedings. Trying to stay in control and keep her responses even, she informed him, "I stopped up to visit Honey. She filled me in on the changes to your plans a few minutes ago."

"Did she?" He would have to remember to thank her before he reluctantly called a halt to that line of thinking. Blaming someone else wasn't the way to go. It was his fault that he was in this mess; no one else's. Worse, he hadn't planned on meeting Trixie without being prepared to talk it out with her. "I'm not ready to leave yet. There are still a few more things that I need to do," he added pointedly, hoping that she would realize that meeting with her had been one of the items he had truly and intentionally planned upon.

Her smile was sharp and cutting. She wasn't about to be placated or pacified. "You've obviously crossed off many of the items that needed to be done on your list. Let's see. What would you have needed to do to get ready for your trip today?" Trixie tapped a finger against her stubborn chin and mused aloud, her voice overly-bright and distinctly cheerful, in direct contrast to the temper that she was having trouble restraining, "You've packed. Obviously. You've shopped. Again, obviously. And now you're loading up your car for the long trip. Hmm. You're making it hard here for me to figure it out. What haven't you been able to cross off yet?"

"Trixie…" Jim began, only to be cut off. He whipped off his sunglasses and let them dangle between his fingers. With nothing obscuring his vision, he watched her guardedly, the green of his eyes darkening.

She waved away his interruption with a careless hand and continued on in that extremely chipper voice that was starting to grate on his nerves, "It couldn't have been your family. I've seen most of them this afternoon. I know you've told your father about your trip and you've also told your sister. Again, that's obvious, since Honey is the one who told me about it. I'm certain you had to have informed your mother, too, although I haven't had a chance to talk with her yet. We didn't run across each other today. You wouldn't forget to tell her, would you?" There was more hurt and disbelief in her than she had believed possible, mixed in with the feelings from the night before. Trixie lifted her head back, watched him down her pert, upturned nose, and waited for his reaction to her decidedly acerbic string of observations.

He tried yet again and was only able to get her name out before she interrupted him. "Trixie…"

She continued on as if she hadn't heard him, her voice disgustingly more cheerful with each new word that slipped past her lips. "I can't seem to think of anything you've forgotten to do. I'll bet if I looked inside your car, I would even find out that you have already filled up your gas tank, too. You are always prepared." Then she widened her eyes in feigned surprise, snapped her fingers, and slapped her palm to her forehead in an exaggerated display. "Oh, wait! There is something that you haven't been able to do yet. Do you know what it is?"

He barely resisted the urge to kick the lone suitcase that was lying at his foot. She certainly knew how to make him feel even worse. "I know," he mumbled out, exasperated. Each word she had spoken so far hammered away at him, leaving irritation and regret in its wake. "And I didn't forget. If you would let me explain…"

Again, she acted like she hadn't heard him, which only set him more on edge. She wagged a finger at him and made a tsking sound. "Somehow, you managed to forget to tell your girlfriend that you were leaving." She hid her disappointment and hurt behind a carefully constructed bland expression. If nothing else, she was starting to learn her how to mask her feelings.

She wasn't as good at it as she thought. Jim didn't have any trouble reading her true emotions, which was the only reason why he was able to reign in his own temper. She was hurt. And he had done it, unintentionally but true. He clenched his teeth and felt like the worst possible heel ever. This wasn't how he had planned on telling her. Hell, this wasn't how he wanted their first meeting to go after their fight from the night before. Suddenly it didn't seem like the best idea to save her for last, to hopefully meet at a neutral location where they could have some much-needed privacy to try to settle their differences and offer her an apology, forgiveness, and a caring and loving farewell for the almost two exceedingly long weeks he would be away from home. "I called your house, Trixie," he began defensively.

"Try again," she snapped back, no longer hiding behind the pretense of good cheer. "I've been there all day. Since I don't have a job right now, I offered to do a few household chores for my mother. She spent most of the day outside the house running errands while I stayed home. While the phone rang a few times today, you weren't on the other end of it." She narrowed her eyes, thinking that he had offered her the flimsiest excuse ever.

He felt as if she had labeled him a liar without coming out and saying it. Frustrated, he jammed his hands into the pockets of his olive green cargo shorts and scowled at her. "I called your house about fifteen minutes ago. No one answered so I left a message to have you call me back as soon as you could," Jim explained carefully, keeping a sharp eye on her. His voice was deceptively neutral. "I also called your cell phone before I started packing up my car but it went straight to voicemail. I ended up leaving another message for you on your cell, too."

Her battery had to be dead. She had forgotten to charge her cell last night, which wasn't unusual for her. Her mind had been filled with other, more pressing worries and memories. Trixie studied him closely, could finally see that he hadn't planned on leaving without at least attempting to get in touch with her. But would he have left without talking to her? As much as she wanted to hold onto her string of righteous anger, she had to let it go. Being Jim, he wouldn't have left until he had talked with her, either in person or on the phone. It simply wasn't in him. "That's something, I guess," she muttered under her breath, feeling the bloom start to wear off her anger.

"You have to know I wasn't going to leave without seeing you or talking to you," Jim told her forcefully. His eyebrows furrowed together while he watched her search for an answer. Somehow, he couldn't fathom that Trixie would even suspect that he would head out of town for such an extended length of time without at least a goodbye.

She glossed over his statement, focused on what was bothering her the most. "Why did you wait so long to tell me?" she wondered aloud, disguising the hurt with a small sigh. She made herself meet his gaze and waited for him.

He ran an agitated hand through his hair. "I don't know, Trixie," he replied with the same type of sarcasm she had recently thrown his way. "Could it be because we had a huge fight last night? Or maybe it was because we weren't exactly on speaking terms when you left me? Tell me, what do you think?"

She didn't like having sarcasm aimed her way as ire flashed briefly in her eyes. As uncomfortable as the situation was, it almost felt good to have something else to focus on besides the misery created by their fight of the night before. "You were the one who wanted to call it quits, Jim. I could have stayed there all night in spite of the storm," she replied haughtily. She could have. She could have raged right along with the storm the entire evening, for as long as the storm had persisted and then after it subsided, although she doubted if they would have settled anything except to stoke each other's tempers even more.

"If memory serves me right, you were the one who ended it. You were the one who told me to go," Jim answered harshly, his own hurt coming through loud and clear and stirring up her guilt. It was blatantly the wrong thing to say, the wrong thing to bring up, and he inwardly cursed himself and his words even as he added more and couldn't pull them back. "_Just go_, if I remember correctly. Maybe I'm taking your advice again and I'm _going_ right now."

"I only told you to go because I knew that you wanted to leave," Trixie replied defiantly, feeling her anger start to reheat. She gave a shake of her head that sent her curls bouncing in their trademark haphazard way. When one fell in front of her eyes, she was the one who tucked it aside, not Jim. Realizing that rehashing the fight wasn't going to get them anywhere except on a path to renewed fury, she cleared her throat inquired casually, wanting to get the conversation back on a more constructive path, "So, you have to report earlier for your internship, right?"

"Yes," Jim answered shortly, curious as to why she had changed the subject so abruptly. He had practically heard the bell ring, announcing Round Two for them, and wondered what had made her step back from the challenge. When the silence lengthened between them, he offered, somewhat caustically, "I suppose you want to know why."

She wasn't as good as she thought she was. She answered his piercing words with a few of her own. "Of course. I'm never satisfied until I know everything," she replied scornfully, throwing more words back at him from the previous night before she could prevent herself from doing it. It was becoming clearer to her that she had a lot of unresolved anger directed his way. Lashing out was not have been the smartest course for her to take, she thought when the green eyes began to glint and glow with remembered anger on his part. She bit the inside of her cheek, almost wished she would wave away her words with the mythical magical wand she did not possess, and that she hadn't strayed from her recent intentions to keep the conversation moving along at a more positive rate.

He didn't appreciate it as the bright red flush on his face clearly attested to but he chose not to address it. It took an effort but he forced the words of explanation past his thin lips. "I had to call my advisor this morning. He had emailed me yesterday but I didn't get it until late. It turns out he was giving the wrong starting date by a student who had been given the project. He needs all of his interns to report to our orientation a day earlier. It's going to be a long day because we also have to leave for the camp in upstate New York on Wednesday, not on Saturday, as had originally been planned."

Trixie digested the information slowly. While the rational part of her realized that he didn't have a choice, the irrational side didn't want him to leave, especially with the way unresolved issues lying between them. "I hope you have a fun time," she replied with that damn forced cheerfulness that irked him more than a display of honest and forthright anger.

He doubted if he was going to enjoy a single minute of it. He hated the way things were between them but couldn't think of a single way to put them back to rights, not when he was getting ready to leave sometime within the next hour or two. And it didn't look like they were going to settle a single thing. She was clearly set against a resolution. He had to be honest with himself and admit that he was, too. It wasn't the right time or the right place but there was no way in hell he was going to offer that line of reasoning up to her again. He didn't want to imagine her response if he were to try to. "I wasn't trying not to tell you, Trixie," he attempted to explain.

"I'm certain you weren't," she replied. She believed him. He wouldn't have left without meeting with her but it damn well hurt that she wasn't finding out until it was nearly time for him to depart. She aimed her next words carefully, like sharp-tipped darts. "I mean, here it is, close to three o'clock on a lovely Monday afternoon. I didn't have to work today. Neither did you. We can't forget the fact that you found out this very morning that you needed to go to work a whole day early. It's nice to know that you respected me enough to tell me, what, roughly six hours after you found out?"

His shoulders stiffened at her use of the word _respect_ while he realized she didn't have any difficulty at all in referencing their harmful and hurtful words from the night before. "I needed time to sort things out," he responded coolly and, in his mind, quite truthfully. "I needed to get everything packed and ready to go. Then I wanted to figure out the best way to talk to you. From the way you're acting, it turns out I was right in waiting to tell you."

Her eyes got even larger. "From the way I'm acting?" she sputtered out incredulously. "What did you expect me to do or say? Did you think I would be delighted to find out about the changes to your trip roughly a few minutes before you left? Or did you think that I would appreciate the ten minutes of courtesy you gave me?" she inquired, unbelieving.

"No, of course not." He wasn't getting anywhere. They seemed to have hit a brick wall where every single word that was said bounced off and caused a wrong response from the other. Damn, but he hated it. From the sparkle of unshed tears swimming in her eyes, he could tell that she despised it, too. "I didn't think you would be delighted. It's not like that at all. I didn't know if you wanted to see me, let alone talk to me after last night."

While it sounded like the same worries that had plagued her all day had also bothered him, Trixie didn't take the time to recognize the fact. She took cover in being spiteful. It was easier, didn't require as much effort. "You could have tried a little harder, Jim. I really was home all day long, by myself." She pointed a finger in the direction of Crabapple Farm, in case he had forgotten where her house was located. "It wouldn't have been that difficult for you to get in touch with me. We could have talked, at my house, with absolutely no one around."

"You could have just as easily contacted me," he pointed out, unwilling to take the full blame, finally going on the offensive himself. "Tell me. We'll try and look at it logically here. We'll be reasonable. Why didn't you try to call me? You believed I was leaving tomorrow for the camp. Wouldn't you have wanted to try and spend some time with your boyfriend before he had to leave?"

Trixie didn't like having the tables turned on her. He had done it so smoothly, too. She crossed her arms mutinously and refused to give the matter a proper thought or explanation. "That doesn't matter, does it? I'm not the one who's leaving for almost two weeks here. I'm staying put, right here in sleepy Sleepyside."

"Answer the question, Trixie." He wasn't about to let her off the hook as his eyes pierced into her. His voice went cool, cooler than it had even than the night before. He dropped a hand on the hood of his jeep and encouraged her, "I want to see if we were thinking along the same wavelength. In this, at least."

Trixie opened her mouth to refuse again but something in his face made her change her mind. He would push until she either blew up or gave in. She decided to save time and gave in ungraciously. "Fine. I didn't know what to say to you, Jim. For the first time since I met you, I didn't have a single clue on how to talk to you or what I wanted to say." She frowned down at the ground, felt a hitch to her breath that she desperately didn't want him to know about, and concentrated on breathing in lowly while she blinked furiously to hold onto the tears that wanted to escape down her cheeks.

At any other time, he would have put a finger under her chin and lifted it up until he could stare into her eyes. He didn't today. "And that's exactly why I waited to talk to you." He didn't revel in being right. "I didn't know what to say to you or how to bring it up. I've been thinking and worrying about it all day and I still don't know what to say or what to do. But you have to know that I wasn't going to leave without at least saying goodbye even if we weren't able to solve our issues from last night."

Part of her wanted to stay in the warmth of her anger, in the fires of her fury, but that would have been childish. "I believe that you wouldn't leave without trying to contact me," she shared slowly, giving him the truth of her feelings. "But I'm having a hard time with your timing. You've waited until the last possible minute to tell me about the unexpected changes. I wish you hadn't. Even though we had a…disagreement last night, I still think you should have told me sooner instead of having me stumble over the truth like I did."

Needing something to keep his hands busy, he grabbed the carry-on bag she had so helpfully brought out to him and hummed it into the backseat, no longer caring if everything was packed nice and neatly. "Trixie, give it a rest. We have already covered it. We didn't exactly leave things at a good point last night," he reminded her after a moment, desperately trying for some sort of patience. She was better at jabbing away at his rather meager supply than he had ever realized.

"Can't argue with you there," she responded and handed him a plastic bag filled from his shopping trip with that same artificial smile on her face. "Here. I'll be glad to help you pack."

He accepted the bag but did nothing with it. It hung from his hand. "I needed some time to figure things out," he tried to explain again, aggravated and annoyed with the entire conversation. They seemed to be going round and round in a circle that didn't have any type of an end to it. With him desperately trying to hold onto the logical, the reasonable, and with Trixie relishing the emotional aspect, he couldn't see a finish to it anytime soon. As much as he didn't want to do it, he was starting to believe that some time apart may help them give them the clarity to deal with their situation.

Her snort told him more plainly than words what she thought about the time that he claimed to have needed. "And it's not like you're getting ready to go someplace where they have any means of communication, right? I mean, if I remember correctly, the camp you are going to is in the wilds of upstate New York. It has absolutely wonderful cell phone service and terrific internet capabilities, too. Isn't that correct?"

The camp was stuck out in the boonies, as she very well knew. The only way they could communicate was through written letters until he returned home in two Sundays. "We won't be able to talk once I get to the camp," he muttered under his breath. "There isn't any service at all. The one phone that the camp has can only call local numbers and is used only for emergencies. I already told you that, Trixie."

"That's what I thought." She rocked back on her heels. The stream of summer sun that bathed them both didn't warm her up at all. "Well, then, I guess I'll give you my farewell now. Have a terrific time at camp, Jim. I hope you gain a lot of experience and it's the best camp you've ever gone to. I'll see you when you get home…if you can find the time for me, that is." As exit lines went, it wasn't the most eloquent but it got her point across. Satisfied with her farewell even though tears were stinging her eyes again, she turned to leave, moving with deliberate slowness so as not to crumple into a weeping, wailing heap on the black pavement.

His hand snaked out, grabbed her by the shoulders, and whirled her back around. The shock of it prevented the release of her tears. "That's how you want to tell me goodbye?" he asked in disbelief, hurt mingling with pride. "After all this…You have got to be kidding me, Trixie."

Of course it wasn't the way she wanted to tell him goodbye. What she wanted and what they were saying to each other didn't seem to reside anywhere near the same realm right now. Trixie released a slow, deep breath of air, unsure how to respond, and stared into the intent emerald green eyes that she couldn't read. Again. "It's better than how you wanted to do it, isn't it?" she challenged obstinately.

Jim dropped his arm from her stiff shoulder. Even with the frustrations brought on by their conversation, his fingers still tingled from the contact. "I already told you, I wasn't ignoring you or trying to get out of Sleepyside without talking to you." How could he make her see that he was trying to plan out the best way to tell her and say goodbye, one where they would have been able to have a nice memory to have over the horrible one from the night before?

Part of her desperately wanted to believe him, that he hadn't relegated her to last on his list without a perfectly good reason. "So you won't be back until two Sundays from now, right?" she muttered, finding the pavement fascinating, and feeling absolutely, totally miserable.

"Right," he answered, feeling the same strain of misery. He wanted to pull her into his arms, to have at least one kiss to remember her by through the next thirteen days, but he couldn't do it, not with the defensive stance of her body or the ball of hurt growing within him.

She did her best to keep the swirl of her emotions out of her eyes. "All right. I'll try for a better goodbye this time." She lifted her face up to his and schooled it as much as she possibly could. "Have a good time, Jim. I really, truly hope that you enjoy it and that the experience helps you when you have your school."

It promised to be the lousiest almost two weeks of his life. "Thanks," he mumbled, watching her with a strange, assessing look. For the first time, he couldn't determine the emotions beyond her composed face. "Maybe it will be good for us to have a small break from each other," Jim said after a moment of silence, all logic and reason. He jammed his hands into his pockets. "It won't be that long. We can use the time to calm down, to think things through. There's nothing wrong with a little bit of distance, is there? When I get back, we can have a better talk than the one we're having right now."

A bundle of nerves and inflamed emotions, Trixie drew back, astonished that he would suggest such a thing, equating a 'small break' with a break-up. "What did you just say?" she asked, horrified and mystified at the same time while she felt a splinter begin to form down the center of her heart. If it wasn't a what she thought, then it certainly sounded like a brush-off to her. She was still smarting from the last time he had brushed her off. She wanted to ask for more when a shadow fell across the two of them.

"I see you did manage to find my handsome son!" Matthew Wheeler joked at her, an easy grin on his face. He joined the two and gave Jim a hearty clap on the shoulder. "It's a good thing you caught this one before he left. He doesn't have too much time left before he has to hit the road. It promises to be an annoying trip, too. He's going to end up facing a lot of traffic at this time of day."

For his sake, Trixie pasted a weak smile on her face while her stomach churned with the thoughts of the terrible trio running through her mind. Break, time and distance. Dear God, what did he mean by that? She didn't think she had the guts to find out. "Hello, Mr. Wheeler," she said back as warmly as she could manage and then took a step away from the pair, starting to distance herself.

Unaware of the unresolved tension emanating in nearly tangible waves off of the estranged couple, Matthew reached down and picked up the last suitcase. He groaned under its weight. "What on earth did you pack in this thing?" he questioned with his characteristic booming laugh. "Don't answer it, Jim. As much as I'm going to miss you over the next two weeks, I'll be glad to help you finish packing," he offered helpfully and lugged it towards the car.

Jim stared down at the ground, hard, unaware of a way he could push his father away in order to try and finish his talk with Trixie. As luck and his drained brain would have it, he couldn't come up with any. "Thanks, Dad," he mumbled out and bent down to pick up one of the plastic bags.

Trixie watched the two redheaded men fill up the Jeep. It didn't take them long until everything was loaded up. She didn't offer to help, let the two take care of the job on their own, and kept crossing and uncrossing her arms while they worked. When they were finished, she stayed quiet and still, very, very still, and finally decided on leaving her arms wrapped around her body to try to warm herself up.

"There, that's everything!" Matthew surveyed the inside of the vehicle one last time and then grinned back at the two. "Jim, I came out here to tell you that I just received that fax you were expecting from your advisor. He needs you to complete the paperwork and fax it back to him as soon as you can. In other words, you need to do it right now. No delays." He smiled apologetically at Trixie, aware that he was cutting into their time together. "The payroll department at the university needs it urgently. You have to fill out the papers and turn them in before the department shuts down for the day." The sun bounced off of his impressive gold Rolex when he lifted his wrist. "You've got roughly half an hour to complete it and fax it to the department."

"All right. Thanks again, Dad." Jim shut the door with more precision than necessary and faced them, his face carefully guarded for his father's sake and what almost passed for a smile on his lips. "I'll go take care of it right now."

"Your advisor also apologized again for the mistakes. He finally figured out what happened. It turns out that a junior at your university was responsible for making certain all of the leg work was done for many of the internships this summer, not just for yours. Obviously, whoever she was didn't do a very good job of it. He mentioned that they are finding lots of missing loopholes on various projects and even on some of the grants themselves. It turns out she had misplaced the most recent contract that had been devised between the camp and the university. They are lucky they found it in time," Matthew continued with a small shake of his head at what he considered the epitome of incompetence. He gestured towards the front door. "Meet me in my office in a couple of minutes, Jim. As I said, you don't have much time to turn it in. We'll take care of that pesky paperwork right now. I also want you to be prepared. There is a lot of it that needs your attention. Your hand is going to hurt from the large mountain of it. See you inside!" With a nod at Trixie, Matthew strode away, cheerfully whistling the entire way.

Jim turned back to Trixie. "I'm going to have to take care of it now," he explained carefully and with a hint of regret to his eyes. He saw the closed-off stance of her body and swallowed a sigh. He wasn't going to be able to reach her right now or explain things better. He would have to try again later, if she would allow him to.

She took another small step back. With her heels on the grass instead of the pavement, she added, "I should be heading home anyway. Moms should be back by now. She'll need help getting supper ready." She pushed the next question out over the thick lump in her throat. "When are you going?"

"After I finish that mountain of paperwork," Jim responded, hating the almost acquaintance-like tone to their conversation. They were sounding more like polite strangers instead of the solid couple he had always believed them to be. "I'm going to have to fight the traffic, like my dad just said. City traffic is never fun. I'll probably catch the tail-end of rush hour." He wouldn't be surprised if he ended up in the worst case of grid-lock ever. He seemed to have lost a great deal of luck over the past few days. A night of slumberless sleep stared back at him before he had to attend an orientation that was going to start at eight o'clock in the morning and would continue until all points were covered. His advisor had told him to plan on having breakfast, lunch and dinner at the orientation. Then, on Wednesday, they were leaving before the sun rose. The next few days promised to be a study in pure and absolute exhaustion.

"Hmm," she remarked absently. "Well, I really do hope that you have a nice trip, Jim. Drive safe." Not after today. Not after last night. She pasted on another smile for his benefit, waved, and said over shoulder, her answer carrying the tiniest bite of derision to show him she wasn't as calm as she pretended to be, "I hope you find all the time and distance that you want."

Using her body language as a gauge, he could tell that he hadn't explained himself well at all. He usually wasn't so clumsy with his words. He tried once more to be reasonable, to clarify everything that he needed to say. "Trixie, we have to gain some perspective here, figure out what we really need to say, what we really mean. It's a good thing to have some time apart. It will be a relief to both of us. We're going to be able to take a few steps back from the situation, to let our emotions settle and to finally put it behind us. A little bit of time, a little bit of distance, is going to help us, not hurt us. When I come back, we'll both be refreshed. Don't you understand that?"

"I can only understand that you that you are relieved to be going away, to get as far away from me as you can in order to put things into perspective," she countered with that same stiff smile in place, her body as rigid as a steel pole.

If her arms weren't crossed over her chest, he would have tried to touch her but she clearly didn't want him to, not then. "You're frustrating the hell out of me right now," he muttered angrily under his breath. "I'm trying to be reasonable. I'm trying to be patient. I want you to understand where I'm coming from, what I mean."

She gave a short, harsh chuckle. "Don't worry about my not understanding. It's coming through, loud and clear." She hated the hitch she felt in her chest, the first sign that a tidal wave of sobs were threatening to explode from her. She concentrated on clenching her fists tight, until her knuckles turned white, and what there was of her fingernails left little crescents on her palm.

"I don't think you do," Jim retorted, holding back his own anger with an effort.

"I may not have skipped a grade like you or been valedictorian like Brian but I'm not an idiot." Trixie needed to get to a safe place. Desperately. She inhaled deeply, attempted to end it, only to be thwarted by him.

"Let's take the next thirteen days, use the time to focus. We can think about what we mean, what we want, what we need to say. It's not a bad thing to take some time." Even though he spoke with an admirable semblance of calm, his eyes gave away his own frustration and pain. "We'll see each other when I get home, talk it out, and settle it."

_Settle it._ Her moment of silence was frosty, despite the comfortable warmth of the day. She made her height as impressive as she could, wrapped her hurt around her, and stared down her nose at him. She was impressed with how cool her tone was. "Enjoy your camp. I hope the time, the distance and that damn small break you want is exactly what you need to figure things out. But don't count on me to be doing the same thing with my time. Maybe I have something better to focus my time and energy on." Her words assuaged her pride but little else. They certainly didn't have any heat or truth behind it because, really, what else would she be doing but think about him? The only thing she had to do was to choke on the same time that he seemed to crave.

She wouldn't have gotten two feet from him if his father hadn't chosen that moment to yell out the front door for him to hurry up. Distracted, he glanced back at the house, acknowledged his father with a wave, and turned back to Trixie. She was already marching away as swiftly as her old sneakers would let her go and had made it a good ten feet away from him. He couldn't tear his eyes off of her as she crossed the wide expanse of the gorgeous green lawn. "Damn it!" he hissed out, even more frustrated and furious than he had been before. "That couldn't have gone much worse." Left with no other option, he turned and retraced his steps back into the house, making his face as neutral as possible for his father's benefit.

When she reached the path to the hollow at the edge of the woods, Trixie threw one last look over her shoulder through eyes blurry with unshed tears. If Jim had looked in her direction instead of trudging up the front steps of the porch as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, he would have seen the look of utter longing, despair and anguish on her face. Now she was stuck in Sleepyside, with nearly two weeks of endless and agonizing time. She had absolutely nothing to keep her occupied. Not a damn thing. Inhaling deeply, she turned on her heels and started wearily down the path.


	24. Chapter 24

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Twenty-Three

Trixie walked home, her heart heavy and her mind in a muddled jumble. She didn't think she could take much more. She could hardly get far beyond the fact that Jim was preparing to leave for New York City in a matter of minutes, that he had been called into work a whole day earlier, and that he hadn't taken the time to properly tell her explain it to her. Then there was that matter of the 'small break' he wanted them to have. What the hell was the meaning behind a break, anyway? she thought disconsolately as she plodded along. If it was even close to what she thought it was…She paused at the edge of path, gazed through wounded eyes into the dense forest, and tried to quell the thought of what it could be, what she believed it to be. She kicked at the stones and felt a small sigh work its way up through her, which was much better than the aching sobs that were threatening to be released.

Her feet knew the way home. In no time at all, she was at her house, feeling drained, emotionally and physically, worn out and lost. Almost dispassionately, she noted that the driveway was once again full of cars. The only one missing was her father's. She was in that same damn, uncomfortable position that she had been in last night. No, she realized. She was in a much worse state. With a house full of Beldens, a tumultuous set of emotions spreading like wildfire throughout her, and a strong desire not to run into anyone, she froze, uncertain what to do next. Fading away, back into the woods, while the most appealing, wasn't an option. She also didn't have the luxury of running up to her room and hiding out there until the next millennium, not when dinner needed to be made and, shudder, eaten together. There was no hope for her. She had to face the music. She squared her shoulders and pasted what she hoped passed for a normal expression on her face and opened the screen door to the kitchen. One hand caught the door and guided it to a close behind her gently without its trademark bang.

"Oh, there you are, dear!" Helen sang out cheerfully from the counter. She stopped peeling potatoes and shook her head when Trixie reluctantly came over to join her. Intent on her work, she didn't take the time to study her daughter's face. "Not tonight, Trixie. You officially have the night off from helping me with anything. You did a wonderful job of cleaning up the house! It's absolutely spotless. In fact, you did a better job than I ever have. Believe me when I say that you have more than earned the night off from any other chores. No help with dinner and no clean-up detail for you, either."

"Thanks, Moms," Trixie replied with forced enthusiasm. To keep the topic off of her, she inquired, "How was your day?"

Helen had learned something about herself that day. She much preferred being active and having her hands full compared to sitting around. She had spent too much time sitting. Behind the wheel of her car, by the edge of the swimming pool, and on a bench at the park. It hadn't been her idea of fun. She was finally satisfying her need to be busy by making a fine meal of stuffed pork chops with mashed potatoes for dinner. "It was great, Trixie," she answered, sounding so much like her daughter when she had been forced to do something she didn't completely like, it was uncanny.

Trixie forced shaky lips to curve up and even managed to keep them there for a few seconds. "Honey is doing great, too," she shared after automatically accepting a glass of tart, homemade lemonade her mother poured out for her. "She wants to go back to work on Wednesday. Her parents said it would be all right for her to try it for half a day at first. It looks like Brian will have some company on the way into work."

Helen chuckled, somehow knowing it was more than a desire to conserve the earth's natural resources behind Brian's offer of driving Honey to Dr. Ferris' office. "Good for her." Then, because she was an astute woman and she had had an entire day to consider why her daughter wasn't acting completely like her normal self, she asked innocently, "And how about Jim? Is he doing well, too?"

Trixie busied herself with her drink. She swallowed, placed the glass back on the counter, and then turned to her mother with a large smile that didn't come remotely close to reaching her normally sparkling blue eyes. "He has to go back to his apartment today. His advisor, or, more accurately, a student who worked for the department, made a few mistakes with the grant. His orientation has to start tomorrow and he'll be leaving for the camp on Wednesday."

And Helen mistakenly attributed her daughter's lack of her bouncy joy to her boyfriend's impending departure. While a logical conclusion, it was completely wrong. "Oh, that's a shame, Trixie," she said sympathetically and ran a soothing finger along her daughter's cheek. "When will he be back?"

"In two Sundays. That date didn't change," Trixie answered. Although she didn't want it, she finished the rest of her lemonade and carried the glass over to the sink. A change in conversation was definitely in order. "Are you certain you don't need any help?"

Helen shook her head. "Tonight, I want to do it myself. It was a long day for me. As much fun as I had watching Bobby practice and work hard for his community service project, I would have liked to have done something more active."

Helen didn't think Trixie's silence was unnatural. She put down her knife, wiped her hand on her apron, and walked over to the small table that served as a catch-all in the kitchen. It was the one place that wasn't completely organized. Anything could be found on it at any given time, from Bobby's leftover Star Wars Lego pieces to Mart's wallet or a three-week old newspaper that had never made its way to the recycling bin. She picked up the envelope she had noticed when she had returned home and carried it back to Trixie. "Here you go, dear. This is your letter from the scholarship committee. I think you must be missing it. I also think you need to make a call," she remarked pointedly.

At first, she looked at the envelope as if she had never seen it before. She accepted the letter with a careless shrug. "Oh, right," she muttered. "I forgot about it. I'll, ah, call them soon." Without even glancing at it, she folded the envelope and stuck it in her back pocket. Too well-trained, she gave her mother one last chance to accept her assistance. "Well, if you are positive you don't want any help…"

"Go do what you want to do," Helen ordered her and shooed her with her away with her hands. "Go, go, Trixie! Do anything at all. I've got it under control here." She winked broadly. "I'll have one of your brothers set the table later and the other two will be in charge of the dishes. You have a completely free night from any chores."

She didn't need any further urging. Male voices drifted back to her from the den, where she guessed her three brothers were located. Scurrying past the doorway, she made it to her room in record time. It wasn't until she was safe within its confines that she realized that she had nothing to occupy her time other than the scene that wouldn't stop replaying in her mind. Her legs practically gave out from underneath her. She sank onto her bed, stared straight ahead, and relived it yet again. Break. Time. Distance. Cringing, she admitted to herself, that she didn't like the sounds of those three words. Not one bit.

Then she silently berated herself. She hadn't exactly helped matters along. She had started the confrontation belligerently, had immediately put him on the defensive. Everything had gone downhill from there. She hadn't even offered him a true and heartfelt goodbye. But he hadn't exactly given her a true farewell, had been more interested in planning out a way to settle their issues. Settle. Word number four. Damn, she absolutely despised the sound of that one. Trixie shifted, lay on her back, and decided that abject misery was not one of her favorite emotions. When she moved, she heard a crinkling sound from her pocket.

Almost pitifully glad to have something else to think about, Trixie opened the envelope and slid out the letter that she hadn't looked at in over a week. The tiny black words beckoned to her. With a frown of deep concentration, she read the contents of it again. She sat up with a jolt, read it for a second time, having nearly forgotten the latter half of the letter. When there was a sharp rap at her door, she placed the letter off to the side and used the action of taking off her sneakers and her socks to hide most of her face from view.

Mart poked his blonde head in, the cordless in his hand. "You must be very popular today, Trix. You have another phone call," he announced and tossed the cordless to her. "Here."

Instinct had her catching the phone before it tumbled to the floor. She had a pretty good idea of who was on the other end. She waited until Mart had quietly closed the door behind him before she cleared her throat. What was she going to say to him? With no clear direction, she went with the only possible route, "Hello?"

"Hi, Trixie." Honey stared out her bedroom window, her face filled with worry. She hadn't been close enough to hear what the two of them had said but she had been able to read their body language extremely well. Honey chewed nervously on her bottom lip, uncertain if she should attempt to get in the middle of it or not. All she knew was that her brother had left a few minutes ago without an ounce of anticipation or enthusiasm for the trip that he hadn't been able to stop talking about a few days earlier and that her best friend in the entire world had carried away with her an aura of extremely strong and sad emotions upon her slim shoulders.

"Honey." Head drooping, she strode over to her open window, trying not to let her disappointment bleed into her voice. She had been positive it had been Jim on the other end. She stared out onto the lawn and discovered that she wasn't the only one given a reprieve from helping with dinner. She heard Bobby calling something in pure boyish adolescent joy while he and Brian participated in a game of catch. A bat was lying on the ground, which was obviously waiting for Mart to come back out and rejoin them for more ball practice. She watched through unseeing eyes but couldn't think of anything else to say.

Honey tapped her window pane. Her view was more serene but some of the same emotions were clogging up her throat, too. "We could waste a few minutes, make small talk, talk about the weather. You know, that type of stuff, Trixie. But I didn't call you up to make small talk. In fact, if my parents hadn't practically ordered me to stay home today, I would be at your house right now, beating down your bedroom door until you opened it up."

Trixie leaned her forehead against the wall. Her curtains billowed gently with the cool breeze. She scrunched her face up, aware of what Honey wanted to talk about. She tried to deflect her even though it was a useless endeavor. "Honey, I don't think now is the time." She nearly tacked on a please but doubted her friend would heed it.

Honey felt the coolness of her response, wasn't overly surprised by it, and didn't know if she was going to make matters better or worse by trying to talk them out over the phone. In person would have been much better. "You may be right, Trixie, but I can't do anything else but talk to you right now. And, if you hang up on me, I'm only going to get mad and then I'm going to keep calling and calling and calling until your family wonders if either I've gone insane or if there is a major problem with you. Got it?" Honey warned in a surprisingly fierce tone, the total opposite of her normally sweet one.

"Great," Trixie replied listlessly. She blew out a small breath and saw Mart pick up the bat, walk up to the old mitt they were using as home plate, and wait for Brian to pitch the ball to him. The ball made a satisfying crack as it hit the bat and then soared off towards the apple orchard, with a loudly cheering Bobby in hot pursuit.

"I don't normally pressure someone into talking, especially you, but I think I need to right now. Jim looked even worse than he had all day when he left a few minutes ago. Even my mother remarked that he didn't look like his ordinary self. Jim shrugged it off and offered some nonsense about having a headache." Honey couldn't mistake the small hiss that escaped from Trixie when she mentioned Jim's name. It was more telling than anything Trixie could have said. "We both know that he doesn't have a headache. Something happened with you. Don't even try to tell me that nothing happened, that all is fine and dandy. I know better, Trixie."

"I wouldn't think of it." Trixie pushed herself away from the wall and began pacing the hardwood floorboards in her room, her body preparing for the verbal assault coming her way.

"Good. Then I'll start with the truth." Surprised by Trixie's apparent capitulation, Honey wasn't going to allow her to renege. "You need to know that I attempted to listen in on the two of you today. You were too far away from the window to actually hear what was going on." Perturbed, Honey crossed her room. She ended up at her dresser where she picked up a necklace and began to roll the topaz stone that was attached to it around her fingers.

One edge of her mouth curled up, whether in cynical amusement at the thought of Honey attempting to eavesdrop or in resignation that someone had watched them at one of their lowest moments. "Okay," she replied haltingly. "I see what you mean." She did see. She wouldn't be able to gloss over anything.

"You're giving the same type of answers that Jim did before he left, too. Short, clipped, and annoyingly to the point." Honey shook her head and dropped the necklace back on top of her dresser. It landed with a small clink. She traced the yellow sunflower on the lid of a heart-shaped box next. "I'm not going to beat around the bush or attempt to play dual parts of good-cop, bad-cop with you, Trixie. I'm going to ask you straight and I want an answer. A truthful answer. Got it?"

She rarely heard Honey so assertive. She dutifully nodded her head. "Wouldn't dream of it," she retorted sarcastically.

Honey would have giggled at the clipped response but the situation didn't warrant it. Trixie was miserable. Jim was miserable. If she couldn't fix it herself, she at least wanted to find out the logistics behind it. "Tell me, Trixie. What happened between you and Jim?"

She dropped her head, felt a sob begin to work its way up her throat, and resolutely swallowed it back down. The words were screaming for release in her mind but she couldn't actually say them. If she did, then she was afraid they may well and truly be real. "I think…I think…"

When Trixie paused, Honey gave her a little time before she pushed, not-so-gently. "What do you think, Trixie?"

She breathed in harshly. The words were there, on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't force them out. "I don't think it's going to be good, Honey."

Honey caught the meaning behind what Trixie couldn't voice. Her hand dropped to her side. She drew back, her mouth in a small circle, and shook her head, quickly and urgently. "No, no, and no." Each no was punctuated with a small stomp of a shoe. Unfortunately, the bottom didn't make a satisfying sound on the thick, plush carpeting. "I don't believe that for a minute. Why would you even think that?"

Trust Honey to understand what she wasn't able to put into words. Her hands began to tremble. Trixie pressed them down against the smooth wood of her dresser to keep them still, kept them there, and pushed harder when they wanted to shake. "I'm not going to go into everything. It wasn't pleasant, for either of us, and I don't want you in the middle of it, like I said earlier." As much as she would have liked to be churlish and place the blame on his shoulders, she couldn't. She was honest enough to realize that one-half of the blame lay at her feet.

Trixie was silent for so long that Honey thought she had walked away from the phone. She was relieved to her friend start speaking again. "Once everything was said and done, Jim went on and on about how good it would be to have some time and distance between us for the next two weeks while he's at camp. He also said that a small break would be good."

"Oh, my," Honey murmured, stunned. "What…what else, Trixie? There has to be more."

The last bit hurt the worst, made her see more into the break than Jim had expected her to see. She wasn't something to be settled, of that she had no doubt. She had more pride, more belief in herself than that. "Then he followed that up by saying that we would settle things once he got home." Even saying the words left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Oh, Jim. You idiot, Honey thought to herself. He should have known better than to use such words, which clearly showed how messed up his own thinking and his own heart was at the moment. "But he never actually said…" Even she couldn't place Trixie's unvoiced beliefs into words.

Interrupting, Trixie tossed back her head proudly even as tears once again threatened her eyes. "Did he have to, Honey? Did he? It's not good when your boyfriend tells you that he needs a small break from you. Really, it's not good at all." She caught the gray out of the corner of her eyes, recognized it, and strode over to pick up. Crumbling the T-shirt up into a tight ball, she tossed it into the dark of her closet, where she hopefully wouldn't have to see it again for a long, long time.

"Why? This doesn't make sense. You and Jim are such a strong couple. You're perfectly perfect for each other. Everyone knows that. Everyone's said that from the very beginning, even before you two started dating. There's got to be more to it than this." Honey picked up the pace, her long legs eating up the carpet. She ran her fingers through her hair, felt the bruise on her temple, and had a major epiphany blast through her with the simple touch. She stood in the center of her bedroom, all color gone from her face. For the very first time she wished that she knew everything that had happened during those forgotten minutes. If she did, maybe she would be able to find the key to help her friend and her brother. "Oh my…this is because of what happened to me! Trixie! Because of what happened at the store!"

"Partly, yes, but not because of you, Honey," Trixie spoke quickly, insistently and urgently, wanting to soothe even as her own heart was splintering into ragged pieces. "The ball started rolling right afterwards, when Jim put on his overprotective coat and pushed me away from the scene. But that's not all. There's more. It really all comes down to a few vital things that we are apparently missing in our relationship." Trust and respect, she remembered with another spurt of pain. When it all came down, that's what was at their heart of their fight…fights, she corrected herself. She stared blindly ahead, felt a few more tears start to fall down like a temperamental spring rain on her pale cheeks.

"You're not going to share those parts with me, are you?" Honey inquired after yet another minute of pure, agonizing silence where she waited with bated expectation for Trixie to continue speaking.

"I can't. I won't do that to you or to any of the Bob-Whites. It wouldn't be fair. It wouldn't be right. The Bob-Whites will have to come first. No one will take a side, of that I will most certainly make certain of." She swiped angrily at the moisture and glanced out the window. The pure blue sky with its gentle white wispy clouds didn't bring her an ounce of delight. She would much rather have preferred a good, hard rain, like the one she had stood out in the night before.

"Oh, boy." Honey slowly sank down onto her bed. There was a finality to Trixie that she didn't like, that she couldn't stand and didn't want to accept. A change was most certainly coming, one that no one would like, understand, or wish to have happen. She fleetingly wondered if the Bob-Whites were ever going to be the same. "Oh, boy."

"I couldn't have said it better myself." Trixie wilted onto the edge of her bed. When there was another knock on the door, this one quieter and more gentle than her almost-twin's, she asked Honey to wait a moment and put the phone on her pillow. This time it was Brian who looked in on her. "Hi, Brian. Is it time for dinner?" she asked with forced ease.

Brian saw the fragility behind the carefully constructed smile, understood more than she realized. He wanted to go to her, to give her a brotherly hug, but knew she would only shrug him off. Time was what she needed for whatever had happened to her. The least he could do was to make certain she got some of it. "Yeah. Dinner's ready. It smells delicious. Are you coming?"

The thought of sitting at the table with her entire family surrounding her made her stomach start to tighten into numerous, tiny knots. She shook her head decidedly. "No. I'm not feeling all that well right now."

"Headache?" he supplied helpfully, his brown eyes full of sympathy. It was a good excuse, a solid one, and would keep the family away from her room.

"Sounds good," Trixie muttered, staring down at her bare feet.

"It'll buy you some time," Brian answered back truthfully. He motioned to the phone on her pillow. "Most likely the rest of the night. No one will bother you, Trixie. At least not tonight. I'll see to it. Keep talking to Honey. Take it easy. You know we're here for you when you need us to be."

Somehow, he knew. She gifted him with a grateful look, saw the understanding staring back at her, and then nodded curtly. "Enjoy dinner, Brian." She picked up the phone after he left and said, "That was Brian. He said it was time for dinner."

"Do you need to go?" Honey asked although she had heard the entire conversation.

"Not tonight. I don't think I want to leave the sanctuary of my room." She practically melted onto her bed, scooted up until her head was resting on the pillows. The cotton of the blanket felt comfortable against her skin. The mattress drained away some of the tenseness from her body. "You know, Honey, there is something I've been meaning to ask you. Now seems like as good a time as any." She decided she may as well go for broke and prepared to roll the dice. The way she figured it, she had already lost once today. It didn't really matter if she lost again.

"What's that, Trixie?" Honey perched on the edge of a chair, her ankles crossed decorously.

"I should save this for when I can see your face but I think now is the right time to ask you." She glanced down at the paper next to her hip, picked it up, frowned at it. For the first time she was allowing herself to consider all of the intriguing possibilities it presented to her. If Honey gave her the answer she thought she was going to give her, it only made the possibilities that astonishingly more attainable. "All I ask you to be is honest with me, Honey. Completely and totally."

"That's not asking too much." With her interest captured and completely unaware of the question Trixie was about to pitch her way, Honey leaned back against the plush cushion. "And I'm always honest with you, Trixie. Completely and totally."

She gathered her thoughts, took her time and phrased the question the way it should be asked. She didn't blurt it out like she was prone to do. "Tell me, Honey. Tell me the truth. After what happened on Saturday, are you still considering becoming a detective with me? Or has that changed everything for us?"

Honey's eyes flared open wide. She wasn't ready to share her answer, had only thought it in her mind, had never put it into actual words. "Ah, Trix…I…well…oh, my," she stammered out inelegantly, her heart beginning to pound out a dreadful rhythm. The last thing she wanted to do was to kick her friend when she was down.

"And that's my answer." Trixie shook her head, refused to sigh with disappointment. She had already steeled herself for the answer. She had already expected it. It still didn't prevent another shaft of heartache, a different type than the one she had helped Jim to create. "There's no need for an explanation or anything else, Honey. I mean it. Believe me, after what happened to you in that store, I completely understand."

"I don't know if I would have even considered not going through with my plans, if I hadn't overheard my parents." Rattled, her thoughts ran together in a nervous prattle that only Trixie could comprehend. Unable to be anything but honest, Honey continued hesitatingly, "I was just waking up when they were in my hospital room. I heard their voices first. Then, as I became fully awake, I heard what they were saying. I heard them, Trixie. I pretended to be asleep so they wouldn't know that I could hear what they were saying. They don't want me to become a detective or pursue criminal justice at NYU. They hated seeing me in that hospital bed. My mother was crying. I think my father was, too." She couldn't do that to them again. She didn't want them to worry or to cry over her. Ever the tender one, she simply couldn't do it. And, a small part of her had to admit, she didn't ever want to put herself in a position where that could happen to her ever again.

"I eavesdropped on them, too," Trixie said lowly. She would have found the fact that both of them had eavesdropped on the Wheelers humorous on the same, exact day if a dream of hers hadn't just finished shattering into a million, tiny shards. "I heard them, Honey. I've kind of prepared myself for your answer. I probably wouldn't have had the courage to ask you about it, especially so soon, if my mind wasn't in such a jumble right now."

"I wish I could come down and see you," Honey murmured and then sat straight up. She needed to see Trixie, to try to explain even further, to at least console and hug her, if nothing else. "Wait! I'm certain I could talk…"

Trixie interrupted her. The last thing she wanted was another life form in her house. Five Beldens to worry about was bad enough. She didn't need to add anyone else to the mix, even a beloved and trusted friend. As it was, she couldn't find any relief for the sobs that were even now tightening her chest. She would be damned before she let them loose when there were too many pairs of ears to hear. "No, don't do it. I'd be lousy company right now. Not only that but Brian just broke out of his sensible, honest-as-the-day-is-long mold and willingly lied to my family for me. I'm afraid I'm stuck in my room for the duration of the evening, without company. My headache, you know. It's a terrible one," she added weakly. Headache, no. Heartache, yes.

"Oh, damn." Even when she swore it came out delicately, a testament to her aristocratic roots and her gentle upbringing. Her hands gripped the soft armrest. "I'm sorry, Trixie. I should never have told you right now. Really, I shouldn't have."

"I'm actually very grateful that you did. I didn't want you to lie. I wanted your honesty and I'm glad you gave it to me." Trixie frowned down at the letter and wondered if she had the courage to actually accept the scholarship, to move to California, to be on her own. With a tiny, sarcastic smile tipping her lips up, she realized she would be giving Jim all the time and distance that he could possibly want if she did manage to dredge the courage up. "I would rather know now, Honey, instead of later. Thanks."

"Ah, well, you're welcome, then, I guess." Honey blew out a breath, amazed at how well her friend was dealing with the news. That's what happened when she was treated with…respect. Suddenly gaining a new insight into Jim and that one tiny little bit of information Trixie had divvied out, Honey expertly turned the conversation back in that direction. "What are you going to do about Jim? You have to…"

"Settle things. I know." She may possibly do that. In a grand way, one where he would understand how much she had been hurt, hopefully without her ever having to open her mouth or face another confrontation with him. Poised at that precarious crossroad where her decision would affect many more than Jim, she smoothed her fingers over the words again. It would be an out, if nothing else.

"How?" Honey wondered curiously.

"You'll see. Maybe," Trixie answered, a bit mysteriously, and uncertain if it was the correct path for her. "I'm not exactly certain yet. I need to do a little research." And a whole lot of soul-searching. Could she do it? Leave her family? Leave her friends? She wasn't certain.

"Oh, there's Mother!" Honey exclaimed suddenly. "She knocked on my door. It must be time for dinner. Please, Trixie, let me try to talk to Jim for you. Maybe I could get him…"

"Honey Wheeler! Don't you dare!" Trixie shot back, irritated. "Don't get in-between us. Please. Whatever this is, it only affects us. I mean to keep it that way."

She was wrong, so wrong. Honey waved to her mother, mouthed that she would be down in a minute, and tried once more, "It won't be interference. I can do a little investigation, find out what he is thinking. I'd even report back to you, without the bonds of holy siblinghood holding me back. I want to do it for you." And for Jim, she was smart enough not to add.

"I won't let you, Honey. I won't." At the end of her strength, Trixie implored, "Don't, Honey. Leave it alone. Please."

The 'please' got to her more than any other argument ever could have. "I promise I won't, then." But that didn't mean she didn't have to like it. "It will all work out the way it's supposed to, Trixie. I can also promise you that. Jim will come home in two Sundays. You'll talk things out, maybe even laugh about the misunderstandings between you. Then we'll all pack up at the end of the summer. The five of us will head off to NYU while Dan and Di will go to their schools. It'll be perfectly perfect, just the way it should be." A pure optimist, Honey truly believed in her vision.

As nice of a picture that Honey painted with her words, Trixie truly did not believe that it would happen, not in the way that she depicted. "We'll see what happens, Honey," she finished cryptically and disconnected the phone after a quickly whispered farewell. She laid her head back on the fluffy pillow, felt a huge, gaping hole where her heart should be, and closed her eyes to ward off the pain. The sobs were there, dying to be released, but she practiced a few rough breathing techniques to keep them at bay. A few escaped, were muffled quickly be her pillow, before she shoved them back down her throat. She simply could not break down in her house, not with the excellent hearing that plagued the Belden family. She had to bide her time until her family went to bed. Then she had some research to do.

She ended up falling asleep. Not a light doze but a full, deep, surprisingly restful sleep. When her eyes snapped open, the room was completely dark. The only light spilled through her window, into her room, courtesy of a nearly full moon. Groaning, she sat up and laid her head in her hands. It took ten seconds for her to remember why she felt so empty, why she felt so cold. Then it all came roaring back at her with a fierceness that stole her breath. Trixie used the remaining energy that she had to lift her head. The bright red lights on her alarm clock told her that it was twenty-two minutes past eleven. She pushed up off the bed, felt the crumbled paper besides her and grabbed it. With the cordless phone in the other hand, she stealthily walked towards her door and turned the handle, opening it with extreme care.

Other than the one nightlight that was always plugged in by the staircase, the hallway was dark and empty. She tiptoed down the length of the hall, stepped over the first of squeaky steps on the staircase, and walked down to the bottom floor of the house. The kitchen was almost eerily empty, too. Food wasn't appealing. However, she desperately needed something for her dry and aching throat. She opened the refrigerator, reached past the last can of strawberry pop that she was never, ever going to drink, and pulled out a bottle of water. When she turned around, she nearly dropped it on the floor. "Mart!" she exclaimed, holding a hand over her rapidly beating heart. "What are you doing down here?"

He had heard the few, soft cries she hadn't been able to fully hide with her pillow a few hours earlier, had realized the true reasoning behind her supposed headache. Normally he would have reached into his handy bag of tricks and pulled out a witty rejoinder. He ignored the need to tease her tonight and pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. "Have a seat, Trix. I've been waiting for you to come out of your hovel."

"Hovel?" she repeated without any of her characteristic bristling. She obediently sat in the chair and took a sip of water from her bottle.

Mart watched her closely, his usually playful eyes now intent and astonishingly piercing. The only way to get his answers was to be truthful. He made a triangle with his fingers and said, "It's a little too late for our normal banter, Trixie. I can tell from your face that you don't have the energy or the inclination for a long, drawn-out talk with me right now."

Long and drawn-out were some of the choice words she generally used to describe a conversation with Mart. Unbelievably tired, Trixie placed her half-empty bottle on the table and invited him resignedly, "Go ahead, Mart. I don't want to waste any time either."

"What happened, Trixie?" He didn't let her deny the need for his question when her head snapped back and rushed on, "I could tell this morning that something wasn't right with you. I was able to find out from our brother that you and Jim had had a fight the night before. Then you came back from the Manor House, complaining of a headache, which none of us really believed, by the way," he added in a helpful aside. "And you spent the rest of the evening behind your locked door."

"My door wasn't locked," she grumbled for the sake of grumbling. As much as she didn't want it to be, it seemed like her life was an open book. Apparently, an easy-to-read open book. First Honey, then Brian, and now Mart knew about their fight. It was exceedingly difficult to attempt to keep any kind of a secret within their circle of seven.

Mart rolled his eyes. "Tell me what's going on." When she eyed him with a strain of wary mutiny, he broke through her barriers simply by reaching out and gently covering one of her smaller hands with his. "Tell me, Trix. It'll help you feel better."

The first full-blown sob came out before she could prevent. Her face reflected both her surprise and her irritation with her weakness. Before she knew it or could prevent it, the second and third one followed. Tears began a steady stream down her face. She buried her head in her hands, desperately tried to keep them from coming, and attempted to keep them at bay. The sound of a chair scraping against the floor and then the feel of two strong, comforting arms around her made her feel marginally better. She turned her head into his chest, let a good bit of the pain and sadness out, and soaked his shirt with her tears.

Mart had no idea how long he held her, how long she cried, or how long he ran a soothing hand over her curls. He glanced up once, shook his head at their mother who watched them in the doorway, and waved her away, promising without words to take care of Trixie. He whispered words, words of support and hopefully of comfort, while he frantically searched about for something that could have caused his sister, who was usually so strong and practically fearless, break like this. "It's okay, it's okay," he murmured incessantly into her ear.

When she was finally spent, Trixie dropped her head on his shoulder, sniffled back her last sniffle, and accepted the napkin in lieu of a tissue from him. Her hands shook when she wiped her eyes. "Thanks, Mart," she mumbled, staring down at the table, embarrassed by her display.

He tipped her chin up with a gentle finger, looked straight into her damp and red-rimmed eyes. "Don't try and tell me it's nothing, Trix," he warned her. "You won't be able to convince me. I already know it's not."

"We'll start with the lesser, then." Trixie twisted the napkin together, would have started tearing it to pieces if Mart hadn't gently taken it out of her hands. "You probably know I talked to Honey earlier this evening. It turns out that she is having serious second thoughts about pursuing our dream. She…ah…she doesn't really want to go into criminal justice anymore. She doesn't want to be a detective or open up an agency with me."

"Ouch." Mart frowned in concentration, wondered why she had called that startling piece of news 'the lesser'. He would have thought something like that would have devastated her. Then he remembered the sobs. No, that wouldn't have made her cry like that. There was only one person who could. "How do you feel about it?"

"Okay, really." She rolled an athletic shoulder. She wasn't harboring any ill will towards her best friend. "I happened to have intentionally listened in on her parents while we were at the hospital. They shared their objections and worries with each other about Honeys choice of career."

"And with their only daughter lying in the hospital…" Mart didn't need to finish his thought. He sat back, feeling sympathy almost overwhelm him for his sister. "I'm sorry, Trixie."

"Don't be." She hadn't exactly come to terms with it herself. It would be a long time before she could truly accept it and not have it ache anymore but she didn't want to waste time dwelling on it. Honey had answered her honestly, hadn't tried to hide behind excuses or sugarcoat her answer. Coupled with her recent trip to the hospital, there was no way Trixie could argue with her or offer her anything other than her complete support. "I haven't changed my mind, Mart. I know I still want to be a detective, even if it's not with the partner I had always expected to have."

"You'll wow your professors at NYU," Mart declared enthusiastically. "Once they get a look at you, they are going to know that they are dealing with one of the best female almost-detectives to come out of New York."

NYU. And Jim. Trixie didn't want to think about the university they were set to attend together. When she didn't respond to his playful joke, Mart gently nudged her with his elbow and delved into the deeper issue. "Trixie? You mentioned that Honey's decision to not become a detective was the 'lesser one'." He swallowed a deep breath, prepared himself. "I almost hesitate to ask this but what is the bigger issue here?"

She gave him a watery smile through her tear-stained face. "I can't talk about it, Mart. At least, not overly much. It's a little too painful for me."

"All right. This has something to do with Jim." Mart hated the way her eyes went wounded, how her hands stilled, and the quick hitch that came with her breathing before she smoothed it out. "We already covered that you two had a fight on Sunday. I got it from Brian this morning at breakfast, in case you were wondering. What happened today?" He glanced at the clock, noted the time, and corrected himself, "I mean, yesterday?"

"Another fight…or maybe confrontation is the better word for it. I don't know. You've always been better at vocabulary than me." Trixie rubbed a weary hand over her face.

If she was willingly complimenting him, he knew it was bad. "And…" he urged, although he wasn't certain if he really wanted to know.

"I can't bore you with the details, Mart. That's for me and Jim, only. But I will tell you that we had that famous discussion. You know the one I'm talking about." She pitched her voice lower, paraphrased a few, " 'Let's take a small break. Let's see what a little time and distance will do. We'll settle things later'. It was that type of discussion, Mart."

A vicious curse peeled like a sharp bell through his mind. Well aware of the two volatile tempers that Trixie and Jim both carried like sheathed weapons but generally kept leashed, he tried to prod a little more of the details out of her. "I need a little more than that, Trix."

"I already told you. You're not going to get it," she answered forcefully and with conviction. "No one is. It stays between Jim and me. It has to. I don't want it to mess with the Bob-Whites."

He had a feeling she was going to say that. "I can tell that I'm not going to win with you there so I'll give you that one. Answer this question, though. Should I call off work this morning, drive to New York City, search for Jim and then, ah, treat him to some less than Bob-White acceptable behavior?" He held up a hand, flexed it, and studied her under blonde eyebrows.

"No," burst out of her like a shot, as well as a small, rusty giggle at the image in her mind, courtesy of his question. Then she sobered. "It wouldn't be right. I'm truthful enough to admit that it wasn't all his fault. We did a pretty good job of creating this mess together. I'd have to take at least half of the blame of the misery I'm in." With a tiny smile on her face, she said, "You should probably go back to sleep, Mart. It's pretty late."

"You're right." Those were two words he would never have said to her if they were behaving normally. As it was, he wished he could say even more supportive and caring things to her. "I have to report to work, in a few short hours, I must add. I should probably turn myself in. Are you certain you're going to be all right?" His face was full of concern for her.

Trixie nodded once, proudly. "I wouldn't go that far, Mart, but I'm not as tired right now as I thought I would be. I think I'm going to hang out down here for a while, maybe watch some late night television, sit on the porch, search the internet."

He gave her one last quick hug and whispered awkwardly in her ear, "I love you, Trix. You know that, right?"

"Yes." She hugged him back, went one better. "I love you, too. Thanks for listening, Mart. I appreciate it, more than you could ever know."

Mart gave her a brotherly kiss on the top of her curls, then headed out the door. There was one more stop he was going to have to make before he made it to his bed. Their mother needed to know what was going on. She would be waiting for him.

She didn't move until his footsteps faded away. Then Trixie grabbed her water bottle and moved stealthily towards the den, where the family computer was kept. She fired it up before taking a seat in the wooden chair that completed the set of eight from their kitchen table set. While she waited for the computer to warm itself up, she contemplated what she was about to do. "There's nothing wrong in searching. People Google all the time," she whispered to herself. "All I'm going to do is gather some research, find out a little bit more about a university. Nothing big. Certainly nothing illegal."

When the computer was ready, she quickly connected to the internet, pathetically thankful that they had switched to high speed a few short months ago. With swift and competent fingers, she typed in California University and watched the choices pop up that the search engine so helpfully supplied. Of course, she chose the actual home page first and was surprised to note that the university was located in San Diego. Why she was surprised at the location was beyond her. For some reason, she had expected Los Angeles. "San Diego," she said, feeling the sound of the city on her lips.

As much as she tried to convince herself that it wasn't a big deal, she knew better. Her hand shook as she clicked on the large button that proudly proclaimed that the university had an excellent criminal justice program. Just as her scholarship letter had predicted, it was rated as the top one in the entire United States of America. She read the information, frowning in concentration with a slight mixture of exhilaration when she discovered that criminal justice majors were expected to earn many hours in the field each semester, starting with the fall semester of their freshman year. She read about the different types of placements that accepted students. They ranged everywhere from the San Diego police department to the beach patrols and highway patrols to Camp Pendleton, which was only located roughly thirty-eight miles from the University, and on to many smaller, private detective agencies in the area. While the information provided clearly stated that all students were only able to observe on-site and complete clerical work, it wasn't hard for her imagination to start to soar before she clipped it.

She closed out the information, filed it away in her brain. Feeling guilty, she deleted the site from the computer's history. Going that far away to school couldn't really be for her or so she tried to convince herself. She tucked a loose curl behind her ears and stood up from the chair, releasing the aches in her back from the length of time she had sat in front of the computer. She grabbed an afghan from the back of the sofa, walked out onto the porch with an adoring Reddy at her heels, and sat on the porch swing. She stared out into the darkness gently lit with the rays of the moon. And thought.


	25. Chapter 25

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Twenty-Four

Honey shaded her eyes, staring out over the late afternoon sun shimmering off of the lake, and waited with an eager impatience for her guests to arrive. She almost found it hard to believe that her parents had suggested a picnic by the lake for a comfortable dinner. Everyone had agreed to come. Dan and Di had said yes immediately and Brian, who had answered the phone at Crabapple Farm, had hastened to assure her that _all three_ Beldens were going to attend. Her exuberance faded a bit as she thought about Trixie, who was the one friend she wanted to see the most. Their phone call of the night before was heavy in her mind, as well as in her heart. Even though she had promised not to get involved, she had called Jim last night, only to discover that his cell phone went straight to voicemail. All other forms of communication weren't available since Jim had left his laptop at home and he and Brian had suspended their regular phone service at their apartment during the summer months. She had tried a few times throughout the day to reach him on his cell, only to be met with the same results. So far, he hadn't returned any of her messages.

Needing something to keep her occupied, Honey strolled over to the picnic table and opened the large picnic basket that her father had thoughtfully carried down for her. She took out the plastic red and white checked table cloth, unfolded it with a practiced snap and then placed it across the picnic table. A few rocks were placed at the corners to help keep it down. Next, she began to empty out the rest of the cooler's contents. The three large bowls of different salads, the rolls for hotdogs and hamburgers, as well as the condiments, were placed on the table. She left the meat inside, knowing that one of the young men in their group would insist on becoming their chef for the evening. Last, she laid out the paper plates, napkins, cups and plastic silverware, and then admired her work.

Something seemed to be missing. Honey glanced over the assorted items with a critical eye and then smacked her palm to her forehead. "Drinks!" she cried out, shaking her head. They had forgotten the beverages from the kitchen.

"Talking to yourself? Is that a side-effect from a concussion?" Mart joked from behind.

Honey whirled around and greeted the Beldens with a huge smile. Her eyes flitted first from Brian's handsome face to Mart's smiling one and landed last on the subdued girl bringing up the rear. Concern flashed briefly before she stepped back and welcomed them to their impromptu picnic. "Thanks so much for coming!" she gushed out, a trifle more excitedly than she needed to. The rambling started before she could control it. "I can't tell you how nice it is to have most of the Bob-Whites over for dinner tonight. It has been a long, lonely day and I'm delighted to have everyone here! We are going to have a wonderful time, I just know it."

Brian gave Mart a playful nudge with his elbow, hoping to lighten the moment even further, and unintentionally made his sister feel worse. "Don't mind him, Honey. He obviously woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. It took a lot of prodding from us to get him to move his carcass and get ready for work. He barely made it in time."

Trixie took a small step back, well aware of the reason why her brother had been exceptionally tired that morning, and tried to squash the guilt that shot through her for her brother. She had crawled into her bed right before dawn had begun to break. No one had tried to wake her up. In fact, she had been allowed to sleep in as late as she had wanted to and had finally stumbled down the stairs around eleven o'clock in the morning, still as tired and exhausted as she had been when she had finally crawled under her covers. Her eyes gave her away, which was why she was wearing an old pair of sunglasses to keep the others from seeing in. Her day had been long and extremely boring. Somehow she had been left alone by the other members of her family. She had spent a good part of the day in her room, going through scrapbooks and photo albums. She had quickly skimmed over the pictures of Jim, unable to look at him without feeling hurt again. When she wasn't in her room, she was in the den, searching out more information on the internet. And, of course, she had done even more thinking and contemplating. She had yet to make an important phone call. Her cell phone was in her back pocket, waiting for her to make the decision to do it.

Mart sharply swallowed a snappy retort when he noticed how his sister become even quieter, if it was even possible. Not wanting to call any more attention to her than she was going to be receiving from the others anyway, he dropped the subject. Humming under his breath, he marched over to the table and stared at it with a masterful connoisseur's eye. Then he began pawing through the cooler. "Hot dogs, hamburgers, potato salad, macaroni salad, and an actual salad salad. Sounds like a wonderful meal, Honey!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. "Your cook certainly knows how to feed us starving Bob-Whites."

"I realized I forgot an important item when you were coming up," Honey explained with a small laugh at her own expense. "That's what I was saying to myself. I think I am going to have to go back to the house and get the drinks. It may not be as hot as it was a few days ago but we still need them for the picnic. People are going to want them."

"Honey, you should stay here," Brian insisted immediately. "After all you've been through, you don't need to go back up to the Manor House." He nearly reached out to touch the small wound on her forehead before he caught himself, realizing that he didn't have the right for such an intimate gesture. He pressed his hand to his thigh, cleared his throat, and declared, "I'll be glad to run up to the Manor House and pick them up."

Trixie inserted herself into the conversation for the first time, grateful that she was being offered some alone time to collect her thoughts and feelings. It didn't seem to matter that she had had an entire day of complete and utter alone time. It hadn't been enough. She could use more, a whole lot more. "I'll do it," she announced forcefully. If facing three of her best and closest friends in the entire world made her feel edgy and uncomfortable, she could only imagine how much worse it was going to be when Dan and Di showed up. Chances were they had already been briefed on her situation. If not, they would be once they got to the lake. "Stay here, Brian. You and Mart can get the grill started. I'll be back in no time." She had already taken five quick strides towards the path before anyone could object or volunteer to come with her.

Honey put a tentative hand on Brian's arm when he started to follow her. "Let her go," she said softly, her heart breaking for the sadness Trixie was trying desperately to mask behind a pair of cheap, shadowed sunglasses. "She wants to be busy."

"No," Mart interrupted, his hands thrust into his pockets and all thought of food momentarily gone from his mind, and watched her leave. He was seriously impressed with her pace. She was putting a lot of distance between them in a matter of seconds. _Distance._ The word flittered into his mind, tugged at…something. He frowned, unable to come up with a reason why he disliked the unbidden thought. "She doesn't want to be busy. She wants to be alone," he explained with a blinding insight that had the other two gaping at him.

There were times when Brian was amazed by how easily the two almost-twins could read each other's minds despite their sometimes rocky relationship. He agreed whole-heartedly with a curt nod. He didn't realize he had automatically placed a hand at the small of Honey's back to comfort her. "Trixie didn't object to the picnic when I told her about it but it was very easy to tell that she wasn't excited about coming. She would have preferred staying home. As Mart said, she would rather be by herself right now."

"Moms said that she alternated going between her room and the den today," Mart supplied, drawing the two pairs of eyes towards him. "Moms told me that she let her have her space today. As much as she wanted to, she didn't force Trixie to talk anything out with her. She also didn't give her any chores, either. Trixie cleaned the entire downstairs yesterday," he added. At any other time it would have been humorous to think of Trixie voluntarily cleaning their house. Instead, it made him distressed.

Brian thought of the description his mother had shared with him when he had quietly and unobtrusively asked her and shared it with the other two. "She mentioned that Trixie floated between the top and bottom floors of the house today, more like a ghost than anything else. She's rather worried about Trixie." As they all were. They all knew how to handle a temperamental or furious Trixie. This overly quiet, rather restrained, and more introspective sister was new and unsettling.

Honey's eyes deepened with her own sadness as she pursed her lips together. Part of her regretted sharing her recent decision not to study criminal justice with Trixie so soon after her most recent argument with Jim. And yet, there hadn't been any other option for her. She couldn't have led Trixie on, lied or pretended anything else, especially when she had been asked to give an honest answer. The truth had to be told. "Of course your mother would be worried about Trixie. We all are. But we need to make certain that we don't let her spend too much time alone. She needs us, Brian." She faced him, her lovely hazel eyes reflecting an uncharacteristic amount of sorrow. "We're also going to have clue Dan and Di in, too. I didn't have a chance to talk to either of them for a significant length of time today so they don't know anything. Hopefully they will make it here before Trixie gets back and we'll have a chance to talk openly with them."

"They need to be aware, too." Brian went over to the grill while Mart went in search of the supplies to get it up and running.

Mart brought out the bag of charcoal and lighter fluid that was stored in the boathouse. He poured a generous amount of charcoal into the grill. "Trixie is very adamant that nothing that happens between her and Jim should hurt the rest of the Bob-Whites," he explained after setting the bag at his feet with a small grunt. "She doesn't want any of us to take sides."

"I'll do my best with that one," Honey murmured under her breath. When both Brian and Mart looked at her in surprise, she shrugged her shoulders. "It's going to be hard not to take sides. At least, not until I get a chance to talk to Jim about this tangled mess they've made."

"I want to be fair to Jim, too," Brian mentioned with a sigh. "But it's difficult to attempt that when I see how hurt and sad Trixie is."

"Same here. But I guess we'll get a different view when Jim comes back from his camp. So I'll do my best to withhold any judgment until then. For Trixie's sake, since she asked," Mart added quickly. Then he picked up the lighter fluid and squirted an extremely generous dollop of it on the charcoal without thinking about what he was doing. "We'd better step back a bit from the grill when you light it," he suggested to the others.

Brian accepted the box of matches that Honey pulled out of the cooler. He stared down at the unlit match, glanced at the amount of liquid on the charcoal, and corrected Mart, "A step or two may not help. We should probably back up to Ten Acres unless we want to singe our eyebrows off," he joked playfully and ushered the other two towards the picnic table. Then he muttered as he flicked the match and a red light flared at the end, "Here goes nothing!" Everyone was relieved when there was only a small blaze was ignited and was contained easily within the metal casing of the grill.

Suspecting, no, absolutely positive, that she was the subject of conversation down at the lake, Trixie moved swiftly up the path, away from her brothers and her very best friend in the entire world. She held her breath, hoping that she would be able to make it to the Manor House before either of the remaining Bob-Whites traveled down towards the lake. As much as she loved them, she didn't want to see them. She almost couldn't believe she hadn't run across a soul when she stood on the front door. Then her heart simply stopped. It had been only a little over twenty-four hours ago when she had stood at the exact same spot. Her fist fell back to her side. She squeezed her eyes tight to block out the memory. When she was relatively certain she had her mixed-up emotions under control, she rapped her fist smartly against the door and was ushered in by Miss Trask who informed her that the cooler with the drinks for the picnic was waiting in the kitchen.

Her luck didn't hold during the walk down the long hall to the spacious kitchen. Halfway to her destination, Honey's parents surprised her by coming out of the room she knew to be Mr. Wheeler's office. Although it pained her to do it, she pasted a smile on her face and thought ironically that she was getting very good at pretense. "Thanks for inviting us to the picnic," she remarked when they met each other in the hallway. She needed to say something but she was already poised to leave as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

Madeleine returned the smile with a graceful one of her own, blissfully unaware of the turmoil behind Trixie's feigned placid expression or the fact that they had been an unwitting catalyst to the destruction of one of her dreams. But she did wonder why Trixie didn't take off her sunglasses. "Hello, Trixie. It's wonderful that all of you were able to come to the picnic with Honey. She was practically going stir crazy today. I believe it is going to be a relief for her to go into work tomorrow for half a day. She would hate spending another full day at home, especially when she is finally feeling better."

Trixie felt another smidgeon of guilt pierce through her. She could very easily have spent a good portion of the day with Honey to help alleviate some of her friend's boredom. There had been absolute nothing on her schedule. There wouldn't be anything to add to it, either, not for tomorrow, not for the rest of the summer. Instead, she had actively chosen to stay away, had been more than willing to spend the day at home, where her mother and her youngest brother had completely left her to her own devices. "A picnic with all of the Bob-Whites will make Honey very happy," she responded belatedly after realizing that the Wheelers were waiting for a response from her.

"Most of the Bob-Whites," Matthew corrected pointedly with his booming laugh. He winked broadly at Trixie and enjoyed the bright red stain that quickly stole across her cheeks. "We are missing one very important Bob-White, aren't we?" he questioned leadingly while his eyes slid to the empty ring finger on her left hand. There hadn't been a need to ask Jim about the change in plans. Having a sister in the hospital had definitely put a dent in what his son had hoped to accomplish on their anniversary.

Trixie's sudden flush wasn't caused by embarrassment. It was even more difficult to keep the smile in place than it had been to pin it on but she managed to keep it without wavering. "You're right, Mr. Wheeler," she answered haltingly. Even thinking of Jim made her hurt more. It was a dull, deep, dark throb that wouldn't go away. Even worse, it would sneak up and attack her when she was least suspecting it. A song on the radio, a line on a television show, a smiling photograph or that damn blue dress she had never had a chance to wear could conjure him up with unerring accuracy. But no one had spoken his name to her all day. Having him brought up caused a shock to her system.

"Well, speaking of that one important Bob-White who is not here…" he paused playfully, unaware of the effect his words were having on Trixie.

Madeleine gave him a rather inelegant poke in the side of his arm. "Matthew! Don't tease her, dear," she chided him gently.

He flashed a quick grin back at his wife. "As I was saying before I was interrupted, I recently tried calling him on his cell phone. I couldn't get through to him. It went straight to voicemail. Honey had the same problem this morning. Have you talked to Jim today?"

"Not today," Trixie murmured truthfully. And she had absolutely no intentions of instigating a call between the two of them. Her facial muscles were beginning to strain from the effort to keep the smile in place.

He took her answer to mean that she had been having the same problem. "Interesting," he mused. "He must have his cell phone turned off."

"That may be why. You never know. I know he was going to have a very busy day today," she replied before finally letting the smile drop from her face. "I'm heading to the kitchen to get the drinks for our picnic. It was nice talking to you," she lied. With a small wave, she turned on her heels and hurried into the kitchen where the small cooler full of drinks was waiting to be wheeled down to the lake. She grabbed the cooler and waited a few minutes before opening the kitchen door, having no desire to run across the Wheelers again. The extra timed served her well. The hallway was empty. Not knowing where they were, Trixie moved on soft feet and made it to the impressive front door without contact with anyone else. As soon as she was standing on the other side of the door, she flew down the steps and across the front lawn, wheeling the cooler behind her.

Her pace slowed as she neared the last bend before she reached the boathouse. The sounds of five familiar voices floated back on the gentle early evening wind. Each one was easily identifiable. Three deep and masculine; two lighter and decidedly feminine. Her name, Jim's name, and lowly expressed concerns about what had happened between them came to her. At first, she hung her head, frustrated with their collective worry over her and Jim, and nearly left the cooler where she stood to take off in the opposite direction. She let herself wallow in her immediate response for a few seconds; then, she shook her head, squared her shoulders, and made as much noise as her sneakered feet would let her on the worn path, clearly announcing her arrival so that they would have enough time to stop talking about her before she rejoined them. "I got the drinks," she said loudly when she passed the bend.

The conversation had come to a halt seconds before she had called out to them. Five pairs of guilty eyes stared back at her. Trixie let their sympathy, curiosity, and God help her, their pity wash over her, resolutely deciding that she would have to get used to it. As much as she would like to do otherwise, she couldn't hide from any of them. Their bond was too close, too tight. And it would only get worse once Jim returned home. For the first time she was grateful that he was gone for such an extended time. It would give her the time she needed to attempt to build a shield. Snapping open the cooler, she broke the sudden uncomfortable silence. "I've got water, Pepsi, and Sierra Mist. What do you want?"

Dan's gaze narrowed as he watched her competently fill the requests for drinks. He accepted a Pepsi from her, using the close distance to finally get a good read on her. He wanted to tear the sunglasses off of her face to get a good look at her eyes but didn't think she would appreciate the motion. However, she couldn't hide the forced smile or the paleness under her normally glowing tan. Coupled with the bits and pieces he had been given by Mart and Honey, it wasn't hard to come to the conclusion that she was not handling things well. He made a silent resolution then and there to somehow get her alone to ferret out even more, direct from the source. He wouldn't get anything vital out of her now, not with the amount of willing ears in the vicinity.

After handing out the last of the drinks, she grabbed a water for herself and sat down at the picnic table, about as far away from the others as she could get without being too obvious. Trixie joined in the conversation only when someone asked her a direct question. For the most part, she was content to stay in the background and watch. She didn't realize that she was unconsciously memorizing the many precious moments of her friends. She covertly studied Di, who must have volunteered to assist Mart with the grilling while she was away. She stood close to him, so close that he seemed to be having a great deal of difficulty keeping his attention on the food. If she wasn't feeling so glum, she would have laughed aloud at the thought of what their food was going to look like. Most likely either charred or burnt beyond recognition. Even through her own misery she could recognize how sweet it was.

Then she allowed her gaze to skim over the rest of the area. Honey and Brian. They had walked out together to the edge of the dock and were engaged in a quiet, thoughtful conversation. Trixie's lips curled into her first semblance of an actual true smile in nearly two days. They were probably talking about Honey's health or her travel plans into work for the next day but she couldn't miss the fact that her eldest brother was having a difficult time keeping his eyes off of her best friend. Or that Honey kept sliding glances his way when she thought that he wasn't looking. Definitely another couple in the making, she thought as the tiny smile completely faded from her face.

Last, she found Dan. But not because she had been actively searching out all of her friends. It was more because of the fact that she had been forced to look at him. She could almost feel his dark eyes boring straight through her. From somewhere within came the rather fanatical thought that he had an unobstructed view into her soul. He acknowledged her small gasp with another long look and walked over from the cooler where he had finished choosing another drink. He sat down on the table across from her and waited for her to speak. "Dan?" Trixie questioned worriedly.

He leaned across the table and spoke so that only she could hear him. "We talk. Later."

She suddenly felt like a hunted animal caught within the scope. She didn't have a chance, she thought with an inward groan. "What about, Dan?" she asked, just as softly as he, hoping to deter him with a feigned expression of innocence.

His grin was grim. He couldn't stand seeing the normally vibrant young woman acting so removed from the club she had been vital in instigating. He didn't like it, especially when he had been blindsided by the idea that it was almost like she was preparing herself to leave them, which made absolutely no sense to him at all. "None of that, Trixie. If you don't want to have the conversation in private, we could do it now, you know."

"No!" burst heatedly from her lips, the most amount of honest emotion she had allowed herself to show all evening. When Mart and Di glanced at her in surprise, a fresh flush tinged her cheeks and she pitched her voice lower. "Not here, Dan. And definitely not now."

"We're in agreement, then. Later. Like I said." He started to place a selection of the different salads onto a paper plate and handed it over to her. He almost laughed at the way she looked at the food. "I'll bet you haven't eaten enough to keep a bird alive in the past few days. You have to promise to at least try a few bites of it, Trixie." He put the plate in front of her when she didn't take it from him. "We'll make a deal. If you eat a little, I'll promise not to ask you any leading questions during the picnic."

She wanted to refuse but the intent glint to his dark eyes made her realize how futile it would be. He would do it, she could tell. He really would bring up what she desperately didn't want to talk about. "All right," she answered grudgingly. "If it will keep you quiet, I'll try to eat something." She picked up a fork filled with potato salad and stared down at it like it was an enemy.

Completely unoffended, he smirked and waited until she had taken a small nibble. "It will keep me quiet…for the moment. But we will talk, Trixie. You can count on that."

Trixie knew he meant it. Lucky for her, she also knew what he wanted to discuss. She forced back another bite and moved over as the rest of their group joined them. Plates were filled. Drinks were offered. Voices mingled, were lifted in laughter and in jests. But not hers. She didn't participate. She much preferred to listen and to take it all in. From somewhere deep within the recesses of her mind came the belief that she was really going to miss this. Her friends, her Bob-Whites, an extension of her own family. As soon as the thought formed, she almost choked on a small bite of hamburger.

"Trixie? Are you okay?" Di asked, her lovely violet eyes filled with concern, while conversation came to a standstill.

Trixie swallowed a groan. She despised being the center of attention, especially of concerned attention. "Just fine, Di." She didn't clarify, ducked her head from the other glances aimed her way, and focused on picking at the rest of her food under the knowing eyes of her friends.

The picnic ended soon after, with the friends working as an efficient team to clean up the area. After the clean-up was finished, the six met near the dock. "Well, we should be getting home," Honey announced, glancing at the orange sun riding low in the sky. It was on the tip of her tongue to bring up the fact that they all had work tomorrow when she suddenly remembered that Trixie did not. She tactfully did not mention it. "Or, at least, I should be getting home before my parents come after me. They didn't want me to stay out too late." She rolled her eyes, feeling nearly back to normal.

Brian picked up one of the coolers. He flicked a glance over at Dan, silently communicating that now would be a great time to corner his sister. Then he offered, "I'll take this back to the house for you, Honey."

Mart grabbed the handle of the next one. Never an idiot, he followed his big brother's example and slipped an arm around his girlfriend's waist. "How about it, Di? Do you want to go for a walk to the kitchen at the Manor House? Maybe we will even be able to beg for a dessert from the cook."

Di laughed delightedly. She cuddled into him and followed him on the path. "We'll see you later," she called back happily to Trixie and Dan.

Silently thanking the brothers for giving him his chance much sooner than he had expected it to come, Dan waited until the others had disappeared from sight before he grabbed ahold of Trixie's elbow and started off in the opposite direction. "Come on, Trix. Let's have that talk now. The clubhouse should be empty."

"No!" She stopped, dug in her heels, her lips pulled down into an obstinate frown. There was no way she was going there. As much as she loved it, she doubted if she would ever be able to step foot near that place ever again. "Not the clubhouse, Dan. Not there. I'm not going there," she clarified.

Surprised mingled with puzzlement. He could only overcome the large amount of resistance he felt in her body if he were to either drag or carry her the entire way. Since that wasn't an option, he filed away the information for later use and agreed slowly, "No clubhouse. I got it. How about we take a walk into the woods, then? We can find a spot where we won't see your brothers when they come back from Honey's." He didn't wait for her to agree but started off in the opposite direction, leading her off the path and further into the forest where they would be able to find some privacy.

About five minutes later after a brisk, silent walk where his strides were long and comfortable and hers were stretched and defiant, they arrived at a small clearing. Dan stopped urging her forward and sank down onto a fallen tree. She didn't follow. Trixie crossed her arms over her chest and stared off into the thick trees that surrounded them, an irritable expression on her face. With a patience he wasn't even aware that he possessed, he waited and watched her, encouraging her to talk without speaking a single word, while he mentally ran through the sparse amount of facts as he knew them to be.

Trixie could only stand the serious silence for three minutes, as he very well knew. She threw her hands up in the air, grumbled incoherently under her breath and stalked to the edge of the clearing before she came back to stand in front of him, obstinate and annoyed. "All right, Dan. You wanted to talk to me. We've been here for ages already and you haven't said a thing. What is it that you wanted to talk to me about?"

The lone arched eyebrow said it all. He didn't say a word, only curled a lip and waited some more. He leaned back as far as he could without falling off of the log, crossed his ankles and prompted her again without answering her question.

Trixie's sigh was loud, exasperated, and cut through the clearing, causing the natural summer sounds to stop for a good ten seconds before picking up again. She ended up plopping down on the fallen tree, a good three feet of space between them, and refused to look at his face. "I really don't want to go through this again," she grouched under her breath. Each retelling only seemed to make it more permanent, more real, and even more horrifying than it had been to participate in the first time around.

He didn't know how to make it any easier for her. If he could have, he would. She mattered too much to him, as did the rest of the Bob-Whites. "Who have you already talked to?" he questioned, going with the easiest one first.

"Honey and Mart," she muttered lowly, staring at her clenched hands. "But Brian has to know something and so do my parents. They didn't say anything to me today but they all know. I know they do."

"Di?" he continued with the same ease.

She thought back to the many violet-eyed looks that had come her way during the picnic. "She knows something, too. You do, also, otherwise we wouldn't be here having this delightful discussion." Her laugh sounded ragged to her own ears. She waited until it faded away before asking, "What do you know?"

Dan had to chuckle at her tenacity. Putting him in the line of fire was a good move on her part. But he wasn't about to be deflected. "How about you tell me first? Then we'll compare notes and see if what I know is the correct version. That's the way we should do it, don't you think?"

Her chuckle wasn't loud or full of mirth. "I guess that sounds okay," she agreed reluctantly.

Nodding his head, he figured that they were finally getting somewhere. "So, tell me, Trix. I've got the entire evening free with absolutely nothing pressing to do. Let's hear what's been going on in your neck of the woods."

"I was offered my job back," Trixie began, going with the simplest and the least invasive to start. She had a hope that would be enough to pacify him but his response curtailed that.

Dan laughed, deep and long, and silently applauded her efforts. "Mr. Lytell must have gotten wind of the depth of the boycott I had planned," he decreed after his amusement died down. He was pathetically grateful to see her lips curve upwards, too. Leaning over, he lightly tapped her arm. "It's not going to make much of a difference for me. I'm never going back in that store again. But I digress here. You obviously didn't accept his offer, did you?"

"Of course not." She studied him out of the corner of her eyes, saw that he wasn't going to move until she shared the actual cause. "I suppose you probably want to know why I don't want to go to the clubhouse."

"I have to admit that I am very curious about your sudden dislike for our meeting place," he agreed softly. His hand curled into a fist. "What happened there?"

She snapped off a small, dead branch from the tree and began to break it into tiny pieces. When she was finished, she held her hand out and watched them fall to the forest floor, where they mixed with the browning leaves and twigs. "Jim and I had a fight there the other night. Sunday night," she added hurriedly after correctly anticipating his next question.

So far her answers were jiving with what he knew, although he hadn't known about the significance behind her sudden aversion for the clubhouse. It seemed like a thoroughly rotten place for their co-presidents to have a fight. Almost poetically awful. "And…" he remarked leadingly.

"Can't. No, I won't," she corrected herself with a decided shake of her head. The curls moved with the motion but didn't have their normal bounce to them. "That's private, Dan. It needs to stay between me and Jim. He'd feel that way, too. I really don't want it to touch anyone else. It's for no one else but us. All you need to know is that we had one hell of a fight."

He figured he would reserve judgment until he had it all. Or, more correctly, how much he could get out of her. "There has to be more. Please continue, Trix."

"Obviously, we had a fight on Sunday. Then, yesterday, I went up to his house to visit Honey in the afternoon. I hadn't made it up there the night before. I didn't feel like talking to anyone after…well, after," she hedged, not fully finishing the sentence. "Anyway, I ran into Mr. Wheeler and met Honey in the living room. We had a nice talk. Then I looked out the window. I saw Jim outside, packing up his Jeep. It turns out he had to report early for his orientation," she explained as her breath hitched.

"I heard about that," Dan remarked easily, choosing to overlook the wealth of conflicting emotion within her. While he wanted to drop an arm over her shoulder to give her some comfort, he knew she would only reject it so he continued on, almost hating himself for making her talk about it, "He called me yesterday and told me about it on my lunch break. He wasn't very excited about the change in plans. In fact, he told me that if he hadn't already committed to the internship, he would have liked to back out of it."

She lifted her head, stared at him, slightly stunned. She had never considered how Jim would have reacted to the change in his itinerary. But the point was now moot, anyway. He was gone. "He told you, huh?" She picked at the bark, pulled off a large piece and sent it humming it away. "He neglected to tell me. Oh, wait," she interrupted herself resentfully. "I have to give him credit. He was going to tell me. He seemed to think it was a smart idea to wait until the last possible minute."

"Not a good move on his part, I take it," Dan remarked when Trixie lapsed into another bout of silence.

"As I said, I won't go into details. We kind of talked about it…" Then she interrupted herself with an embittered chuckle. She could be brutally honest when the situation warranted it. "To tell you the truth, I was a little belligerent about the whole thing."

"Just a little," Dan inserted, able to read her correctly, and felt the scene come to vibrant life in his mind. A pissed-off Trixie, a defensive Jim, both struggling with the emotionally remains of their previous argument. It wasn't a shock to him that they had managed to rekindle the fight, without solving it. As far as he was concerned, now it was just a matter of how much they had messed it up. Judging from the down-hearted looked on her face, he guessed they had messed it up good.

"Tiny bit," she admitted, showing him with her thumb and her index finger. "Anyway, it didn't get much better from there. I guess you could say that I set the tone and not in a very productive way." She breathed in, thought about it, and strained to look at the situation even more objectively. "Looking back, I would say I didn't do a horrible job of keeping my emotions in but I still let them rule my thoughts and my words. Since I'm trying hard to be honest with you, I have to admit that I did an exceptionally great job of ticking Jim off."

It didn't take a lot of effort for the rest to come together. Dan ran a hand through his dark, slightly long hair. Words of sympathy and hope were on his lips but he didn't voice them. She wouldn't appreciate it. If anything, it would probably make her shut down. Quietly, he noted, "You feel responsible."

"I do, for some of it. I'm not always that even-tempered, you know." Her smile was a little wistful, a little sad, and a lot defeated. "Be that as it may, Jim brought out the big guns, decided that the two weeks would be a good time to take a break, think things through…" She stopped talking, unable to say the next part of it. If she even thought the phrase 'settle things' one more time, she thought she would go insane.

And come back and talk them out, Dan thought to himself but Jim hadn't shared that most important piece of information with Trixie. Or, if he had, he hadn't put it that way. Stupid, stupid Frayne, he thought with an inward sigh. "And?"

"He wants time. He wants distance." She spit the words out, showing him how much she thought of those two things.

Dan paused. He couldn't miss the sudden tenseness that took over her body. There was much more going on within her than simple sadness, he realized with a start. He didn't think it was a good mix, whatever it was. Using a calm voice he had witnessed Brian employ more than once on a person in physical pain, he questioned, "And what do you want?"

Trixie's eyes took on a militant light that he couldn't see behind her shades. "To give him what he wants, of course. He can have all the time and distance he wants. But I'm not going to wait around to be an issue that's settled." She tossed her head back defiantly.

Dan frowned, uncertain if he liked her answer. He didn't care for the force behind it. "Oh, Trixie," he muttered, shaking his head. It sounded to him like she had her mind made up. About what, he didn't have a clue. But it worried him. "I don't think I would do anything before you've clearly thought it through."

She slipped off her sunglasses, dangled them between her fingers, and met his gaze for the first time all day, a steely, frosty blue to a concerned obsidian. "I am thinking it through, Dan. I'm not being impulsive, not on this. It's much too big. I haven't made a choice yet." Not completely. But the thought wouldn't go away, no matter how many times during the day she had tried to swat it aside. Neither would the relief she would feel. She couldn't argue with the safety net that came with thousands of miles of distance in-between them.

"What are you thinking?" Dan reached out, cupped her shoulder with one hand and tapped her forehead with the other. "Something is going around in there. I can tell, Trixie. What are you planning on doing?"

Trixie pulled out her cell phone from her back pocket and put it between them. The look she gave it carried both excitement and dread. "It's only a rather fascinating opportunity that I wouldn't have considered before…well, before all of this. I'm not done with my research yet, Dan. I have a few unanswered questions that need to be taken care of before I can make a definitive answer."

"That's a political correct answer. Polite, reserved, and completely obscure." He dropped his hands from her, studied her closely, and came to the only logical conclusion. "You're not going to tell me more, are you?"

"Later. Maybe. I don't know. It will all depend on my final decision. You'll know if I've decided in the affirmative. Everyone will." She shrugged a helpless shoulder and added, "There's more than just me and Jim. I also talked to Honey last night about her career plans. You remember our conversation, right? I overheard her parents in the hospital. It was one of the subjects we discussed when we went to get dinner for everyone." She refused to remember how Jim had reacted to another one of their subjects from that evening.

"And she's changed her mind," he inferred correctly, biting back another sigh.

"Yes. Of course." Trixie tipped her head back, stared at the blue of the wide open sky above them, and whispered with an air of resignation that didn't sit well upon her shoulders, "So, that's that. No detective agency with her."

"We talked about this earlier, Trix," he murmured softly, hoping to ease some of the hurt and disappointment within her. "You remember, right? When you told me about the conversation? If things change, then you have to adapt. This may sound a little cruel, and I'll apologize up front for it, but you don't really have much of a choice." He caught her chin and looked deep within her eyes.

"Adapt." She repeated the word, let it fall from her lips, and decided it wasn't as hard to say as she had thought it would be. "You're wrong. You don't need to apologize. It's not a cruel thing to say, Dan. It's the truth. You can't argue with it. I guess adapting is what I'm going to have to do." And, she considered, that was what some of the most important people in her life may have to learn how to do, also. Her fingers skimmed over the sleek front of her cell phone. The number she needed to call was programmed into it. As she took in the quiet of the trees, the slow, insistent noises of the summertime insects, she decided it would be the perfect place to make the call. Lonely, secluded, and private.

"You can do it, Trixie. You've always been one of the strongest people that I know. You can adapt," he repeated and stood up. He stretched out his long limbs and offered her a hand but she refused it. "Aren't you coming with me?"

"I think I'm going to stay here. It's very peaceful, Dan." Trixie looked up at him, curtailed what he was going to say next with a small curt shake of her head. "You don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine. I'm only going to stay here a little longer. I want a few more minutes of privacy."

"Your house can get awful crazy, can't it?" Dan said, hoping to get at least a semblance of an actual smile out of her.

It worked. A small one worked its way across her lips. While it didn't showcase her natural jubilance, it held a promise that she would actually be able to do it. Someday. "Yeah. That's one of the wonderful things about my house but today…" she left the rest unsaid.

He finished it for her. "You need some time to yourself." Dan reached down, tugged her up and gave her a quick, platonic hug. When he pulled back, he asserted, "If you need anything, Trixie, anything at all, give me a call. I'm there for you, just like the rest of the Bob-Whites."

She surprised Dan by hugging him again. "I may take you up on that, Dan." Then she patted him on the shoulder and took her spot back on the fallen tree. After his footsteps receded, she pulled out her cell phone and searched out the number she wanted to call. She mused to herself with a wry, dry chuckle that she never once thought she would be calling California.


	26. Chapter 26

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Twenty-Five

She searched for the number under her list of contacts but didn't get any farther than Jim's name. She had three numbers for him. Manor House; his cell phone; his apartment. The letters in his name danced gleefully before her eyes, mocking her with their presence. With a trembling finger poised above the green sent button, she nearly called his cell phone. Very, very nearly but she couldn't make herself do it. She actually felt like she didn't have the right to, not now, not when she was considering something very definitive, extremely radical, and completely irreversible. With a flick of her wrist, Trixie flipped the phone closed and stayed silent and still while the gentle summer breeze teased her curls and the forest life continued on around her.

After staring off into nothingness for longer than she intended, Trixie shook away the melancholy that had stolen across her. From somewhere deep within, she found the courage to search out the number. It wasn't hard to find. She had saved it under an abbreviation for 'scholarship'. The numbers seemed innocent enough; didn't appear to warrant the uneasy nerves that were clutching at her. Before she could think about it more or talk herself out of it, she completed the call. Her fingers loosely clasped the phone to her ear.

The phone on the other end let out a merry chirp. One time, two times, three times. On the fourth ring, it was picked up. "Hello?" a rather harried, and not all that welcoming, voice answered.

"Oh, hi," Trixie stuttered out, wondering if she had called a wrong number. All of her rehearsed questions from the long night before and the endless afternoon fled from her mind, to be replaced with a mental block. "I'm sorry. I think I may have the wrong number. Is this the correct number for the criminal justice scholarship committee?" She bit her bottom lip while she waited for the answer.

The well-trained and highly secretive personal assistant blew back a sigh, stared at the clock wistfully and thought about the dinner date she was supposed to meet in roughly forty-five minutes. While she wanted to scold the caller on the other end for calling two minutes before closing time, she answered briskly in the affirmative, "Yes. It is. Can I help you?"

"I think so. My name is Trixie. Actually, it's Beatrix. Beatrix Belden but everyone calls me Trixie." She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to cut down on the nervous prattling. "You see, I was awarded a scholarship and, well, I would like to talk to someone about it, if now is a good time. It's not a problem, is it?" she ended hesitatingly. A finger played nervously with a blonde curl.

Her interest with the clock and her approaching date deflated at the mention of the name. She sat up, her eyes large, interested and astonished. Her boss, she knew, would make time for this phone call. He had been waiting for the young woman to call for over a week now and had insisted that he be contacted the second the phone call came through. "It's not a problem at all, Miss Belden," she answered efficiently, all signs of her former annoyance gone. "Do not worry about the time. It is a perfect time for you to talk. However, I won't be able to answer your questions. You will need to talk to…uhh, my boss," she finished, keeping his true title to herself. She had been specifically ordered not to let anything slip to her. "You'll need to be patient. It may be a few minutes before he'll be free to talk to you. I'm going to put you on hold while I call him up."

Trixie stared down at her feet while instrumental music flooded her ear. Because she didn't have anything else to do and the tension was beginning to eat away at her, she pushed herself off of the tree and began to pace the small wooded area. She made short work of the square footage available to her. She made it to the edge in ten steps, pivoted on her heels, and was back at the tree before she retraced her steps again. The movement helped soothed her, helped convince her that what she was doing was correct. She mentally ran through the questions that she had and prayed that she would remember them once she was able to talk to whoever was on the other end.

As the secretary had predicted, she needed her patience. The music droned on and on. It was quite possibly the worst selection of instrumental music ever. It wasn't soothing or calming. The noise bothered her instead. Whoever composed it should be shot, she thought with almost a grin. She was close to disconnecting when the music abruptly, and thankfully, ended. "Is this Beatrix Belden?" a deep male voice questioned.

Trixie jolted at the sound. Concentrating, she tried to interpret what she could from the voice. But all she could get out of it was that he was a male and obviously used to authority. "Yes, this is Beatrix…Trixie Belden," she answered in response and tucked that errant curl behind her ear where it only stayed for a moment before springing free. "Please. Call me Trixie."

"Wonderful." He leaned back in his leather seat, stared out the window at the soothing sight of the crystal blue ocean. Tiny sailboats dotted the edge of it while eager beachgoers enjoyed the late afternoon sun. He liked being near the water, any type of water, whether it was the Pacific Ocean or a tiny pond in the Adirondacks. He made a point of setting his office close to a body of water whenever it was possible. Gathering his thoughts, he pushed aside the information he had been reviewing and concentrated on the task at hand. "Trixie, then. It is excellent to hear from you."

"Ah, thank you, ah, sir." She searched wildly through her mind but couldn't come up with anything else to call him.

He picked up on her uncertainty and lied without a qualm. He wasn't going to use his real name. She would make the connection that existed between them too fast. He wasn't ready to reveal it; just as she wasn't prepared to accept it. It would take time. "Call me Mr. Miller, Trixie." His lips curved while he pondered what his personal assistant would think of him borrowing her last name for the call. He jotted down a quick note to tell her about his assumed name when she arrived for work tomorrow. "I take it you are calling in response to your scholarship, correct?"

"Yes. Um, right, Mr. Miller." A line furrowed between her forehead. For some reason, the name did not roll off her tongue easily. She attributed it to the fact that she had never been at ease when conversing with someone in authority. It was blatantly obvious that Mr. Miller had authority. Over what, she couldn't tell and highly doubted if she would ever be able to ask him. "I actually received two."

"Two. Let me call your information up," he said quietly and rattled a few letters on his keyboard to make her think that he was checking her file. In reality, he knew her information as well as his own and had been anticipating a call from her ever since the acceptance letters had been sent out. She was still a long shot, considering the liabilities she possessed in the amount of her family and her friends, but he would do what he could to entice her away from the fold and towards his flock. "Yes, I see that now. Will you be accepting the standard five hundred dollar one for each school year?" He hid his curiosity over her answer with his carefully professional tone of voice.

"Maybe. I'm not certain yet." Trixie released a small, nervous giggle that caused his smile to widen. She ran a hand through her unruly curls and explained haltingly, "Actually, I had a few questions about the other one. That is, if you have the time."

"The full scholarship," he answered for her. She was curious, possibly even excited, just as he had hoped she would be. Leaning back in his comfortable office chair, he picked up a pen and twirled it around his fingers. "What are your questions, Miss Belden? And don't worry about the time. I have all the time in the world right now. I would be glad to answer any questions for you. If I can't answer them, I'll get you the answers."

"I've done a little research on California University," she began, her words gaining force as her nerves started to settle. He sounded friendly. She didn't get the feeling that she was bothering him or taking him away from something else. In fact, she actually felt like he was genuinely interested in answering her questions. "CU sounds like a wonderful university, with an absolutely terrific criminal justice program."

"Not terrific. It's the best," he corrected mildly, without any condescension to him. Part of the reason why it was the best was the large amount of money he was able to send its way, through many various and untraceable avenues. "It's the reason why our scholarship committee works so closely with CU. We only recommend the very best for their university. In fact, we've only recommended a handful of students over the years." He spoke the next statement easily and without hesitating, wanting her to hear the overwhelming truth, "You should be proud to know that we consider you the very best."

Red chased away the paleness that had resided in her cheeks for the past two days. It settled across her face, made her freckles stand out. "Oh, gleeps. Well. Um, thank you, Mr. Miller," she stammered out, never one to take compliments well. The very best? she thought, her eyes wide. No one had ever said that to her, especially over her detective abilities.

"As I said earlier, we have only ever sent a small number of scholarship recipients to CU." He wanted to drive the point home that her offer was on the extreme end, that it was rare, and hopefully not one that she could toss away easily, should that be her intent. Flattering her would help but it wouldn't be enough. She would require more. "We haven't sent anyone there in a few years. You would be the first in awhile. And the only one this year," he shared, anticipating her next question.

Trixie digested the information slowly, finding it hard to believe that Mr. Miller, whoever he was, saw such promise in her, as did the others on the scholarship committee. She tried to remember her application but couldn't come up with much of anything. How on earth had her application and her essay made such an impact to them? She wasn't known for her writing skills. Or her math skills. Her SAT scores hadn't been anything to brag about, either. They were mediocre, at best. Trying to get the answer to that question, she inquired curiously, "How are the scholarships awarded?"

His door opened. An agent stood in the doorway, prepared to meet for an important debriefing. He waved the agent away and whirled around in his chair. When his back was to the now-closed door, he shared what he could about the selection process, "We have a few…employees who are assigned each year to read over the applications and the essays. First of all, we don't look closely at grade point averages or standardized tests results. The committee firmly believes that there are more important ways of deciding if an applicant deserves a scholarship or not." He was pleased that he had remembered to substitute 'agents' with 'employees.'

Trixie's eyes popped open. It had to be the first time she had ever heard of a scholarship that didn't use grades as the predetermining basis for selections."My scores are not very impressive," she shared, in case he hadn't had a chance to really look at them.

"Yes. I know." He appreciated her honesty. "As I was saying, the employees sort out the applicants. Most of the applications fall into two groups: applicants with potential versus applicants who, regrettably, don't have it. Every now and then we can make a third group. This is our elite group. Not many people make it there. You fell into that elite group, Miss Belden, and not because of your test scores or your grade point average. It's because of your time, energy, and your very interesting hobby of solving almost unsolvable mysteries that we decided to reward you with a full scholarship for California University." He deliberately left out the fact that he had been following her progress ever since he had had the pleasure of working with her, that he had, in fact, been planning on attempting to draw her into his 'elite group' from the second he had met her.

She felt her cheeks flush even more and brought a hand up to cover one of them. He was very convincing. She felt compelled to believe what he was saying. After the uncertainty and pain of the past few days, it felt unbelievably good and downright nice to have someone, even a complete stranger, believe in her. "That sounds complicated. I am starting to consider the second offer, as I have told you before. How much time do I have before I have to make a final decision?"

He knew when to push and when to give. The push was subtle and gentle as he offered, "The sooner, the better, of course. If you decide to come to California, we would take care of all the arrangements for you. You, or your family, wouldn't need to lift a finger. We would cancel NYU, set up your admission at CU, as well as your room and board. We would take care of your plane ticket out here, too. If there were any loans that you had already applied for, we would be glad to cancel them for you. No one in the Belden family would have to worry about anything. We have a lot of contacts so it would be extremely easy for my… committee." He almost chuckled at how easy it was beginning to be to substitute words for his agency.

"Gleeps," she murmured, stunned that he and his committee would go to so much trouble for her. "That would be helpful. When would you need to know?"

"Right. You need a deadline." He stroked his chin, wanting desperately for her to say yes but knowing he couldn't push any further right now, and then decided, "Since it's Tuesday, we can give you a few days to think about it. You'll have to let us know which scholarship you would like to accept by this Friday, at the very latest. Will that be enough time for you?"

"Yes." Her knees were feeling weak. Trixie sank back down onto the fallen tree. She picked off a dandelion gone to seed and used trembling fingers to scatter the small white bits of fluff. "Definitely. As much as I would like to, I can't give you an answer without talking to my parents first."

"I understand." And he did, much to his regret. It was her biggest weakness, even bigger than her impulsivity, which could easily be cured through their intense training. Never, in the course of his agency, had an agent been admitted in with the amount of baggage that she had. A full, loving family, a wide circle of friends, and even a boyfriend. Boyfriend, he wondered to himself and tapped a finger to his chin. Was there still a boyfriend in the picture? He doubted it. She wouldn't be calling if there was one.

"Thanks. I appreciate it. I really don't think that they would be happy with me if I were to suddenly announce that I was moving the entire way across the country without talking it over with them first." She gave a small chuckle, unaware of how much she had given away.

His smile turned feral. She was close, very close, to saying yes, much closer than he had ever believed her to be. Having never been in the position of ever having a future agent needing to ask his or her parents for permission, he shared what he hoped would help make the cut easier, "I can sweeten the deal for you. Not only do you have the offer of free tuition, free room and board, and any other supplies that you would need, such as textbooks, but there is something else, too. The sooner you can come out here, the better. A summer job has opened up at one of our affiliates. Amazingly enough, it is a small, private agency located in San Diego, the home of California University. It's very close to your campus. If you were able to come out here within the next few days, you could have it. You would get paid the going rate and you would also earn credits towards your degree." He paused significantly and then added, "That is, if you don't already have a job."

It was sweet and enticing but not for the reasons he had stated. A summer job, waiting for her, in California? It sounded perfect. "I don't have a job right now," she shared slowly, then covered her hand with her mouth.

His smile sharpened even further. He dropped the pen on his desk and stood up from his neat and extremely organized desk. Contacts were going to need to be made. A few favors may need to be called in. He could feel it. It was in the air. He started creating a list of items that would need to be completed before she came, roughly estimating that he had about a week to get things in order. "Good. I can guarantee you one. It's yours, if you can get out here within the next week. As a student, or, more accurately, as a pre-student, you wouldn't be able to do any field work. It would be clerical in nature, with maybe an observation or ride-along as the time progresses." He could also see to it that all of her field work occurred at the same private detective agency. There was nothing wrong in starting her with the best from the very beginning, he mused silently, even before she knew what she was being initiated into.

"You have given me a lot to think about, Mr. Miller," Trixie said into the phone. She twirled that bothersome curl around her finger. "When would you want me to come out for the job…that is, if I decide to accept it?" she tacked on quickly.

He caught the way she hastened to add it on, could almost hear the answer she wanted to give. "This weekend would be ideal so that you could start on Monday. But, if you can't settle your affairs between now and then, any time next week would be acceptable. You can let me know what would work for you. We'll get you out here as soon as you are able to. You'll be able to get settled into your room and into your job." Knowing he had an advantage, he pressed on, "It would be a great start to your college career, too. I do not know your parents but I am certain they would approve of a summer job that is not only within your chosen field but also gives you college credit and a paycheck."

She hadn't heard anything beyond this weekend or next week. What an out. She could be gone before Jim came home, before he 'settled' things with her. Time and distance, she thought scornfully. He would have all of that damn time and distance he had professed to need. "I can't accept anything without talking to my parents," she said after a minute. "I'll talk to them when I have the chance and then I'll get back in touch with you soon. Very soon, I promise."

"You can call me anytime you like," he assured her with the right amount of professionalism. He didn't want to scare her off or seem too eager for her acceptance. "You should also offer my phone number to your parents. I would be delighted to answer their questions and also offer them my assurances for your safety and well-being." He almost gagged at the thought. Talking with parents of a prospective agent? It had never been done before. Ever.

"That's a nice offer. Talking to you would help my parents a lot." A unique excitement began to build within her. It may not be a mystery. And she may not be starting down a new road with Honey or any of the other Bob-Whites at her side, but she couldn't deny the exhilaration. For some odd, unknown reason, Mr. Miller and his committee wanted her. Little Trixie Belden from Sleepyside, New York. She couldn't help but feel flattered. And the offer couldn't have come at a better time. "I'll need to sit down with them when I can. Thanks for your time, Mr. Miller. You made everything a lot clearer to me. I appreciate it."

This time he called up her file and paid more attention to the information they had on her parents. He got the names straight, the professions straight, and a strong feel for them. Neither Peter or Helen Belden would be in favor of sending their only daughter away. It was practically written into their profile. He would have to be smooth and convincing. "Remember what I said. You, and your parents, can call me. Anytime. We would love to send you to California University, Trixie. You would be quite an asset to the criminal justice program there."

After giving him a stunned farewell, she disconnected the call. The oddly exhilarating excitement she was feeling was much better than the despair and the pain. While she recognized the fact that she was only displacing it, that she wasn't remotely close to healing or dealing with it, she would gladly take the opportunity for some blessed relief. When she started towards home, there was a spring in her step that had been missing.

She came in through the kitchen door and stopped on the threshold, pleasantly surprised to find both of her parents sitting at the kitchen table. Alone. No one else appeared to be around. Craning her neck, she looked around but couldn't see or hear any of her brothers. Last, she focused on her parents. They were enjoying a glass of iced tea and a few of her mother's delicious and, from the smell still permeating the room, recently baked chocolate chip cookies. "Hello, Moms, Dad."

"Hi, Trixie. How was the picnic?" Peter bit into the pure heavenly creation his wife had made and made a small approving sound in the back of his throat. "This is delicious, Helen."

"The picnic was fine," Trixie responded. She had actually forgotten about the picnic. She pulled out her chair and sat in her spot, her hands splayed out on the top of the wooden table top while she collected her thoughts for her next big talk of the night. She couldn't remember talking so much in such a short period of time. First Dan, then Mr. Miller, and now her parents. Without a doubt, she was facing the most difficult one of the evening.

Helen inclined her head to the side and observed her daughter closely. Trixie's face was flushed. A sparkle that had been missing for the past few days was back, reflecting in her eyes. It was a different sparkle, not one brought on by happiness or love, but one brought on by…anticipation. She didn't say anything but slowly laid down her cookie, her appetite disappearing. Some things a mother knew without anyone telling them a single thing. She was not going to like whatever Trixie had to tell them.

Peter hadn't caught on to any underlying currents. He was only aware that his daughter seemed happier and more like her old self than she had since she had come home from the hospital on Sunday. He approved the change with a nod of his head and smiled back at her. "I'm glad that you had a good time, Trixie. It had too have been refreshing to spend some time with the Bob-Whites."

"Honey brought down a lot of food from the Manor House for it. Brian and Mart helped her bring the coolers back to her house when the picnic was over. Have they come home yet?" she inquired innocently and kept her eyes trained on her father in spite of the fact that she wanted to search out any signs of her brother. She didn't want to have this discussion when they were in the house. It needed to be private.

"Mart took Di home a few minutes ago so it will be awhile before we see him again. Somehow, he manages to get lost between our house and the Lynch estate. Brian drove Bobby into town for some ice cream. It's going to take a little longer now. We're not going to be patronizing that store down the road anymore." He practically spit 'that store' out, unwilling and unable to ever let one of his own put a foot in that little country store. He wasn't stupid and he hadn't been fooled by the apology Mr. Lytell had offered his princess. It wasn't enough, would never be enough, in his opinion.

They were alone. Trixie accepted the cookie her father offered her but didn't take a bite out of it. She laid it on her napkin instead. "I finally called the committee about my scholarship," she began in an offhand manner, her blue eyes watching her parents intently.

Helen's mouth went slack, nearly hit the table. The color drained from her face, leaving her pale and shaken. No, no, no! her mind screamed inside but nothing came out. She had read the letter that Trixie had left lying about in plain view, as had Peter. They had both been proud of their daughter, for both of the scholarships that she had been awarded, but they had never thought that she would accept the full one. Never. She shook her head slowly from side to side while her fingers gripped the edge of the table. But she knew what was about to come.

Focused on their daughter, Peter didn't notice Helen's sudden agitation. He smiled benignly at Trixie. "That's good, dear. The money will come in handy once you start school in the fall. With the cost of tuition, room and board, textbooks and other supplies, it will most certainly be useful. The Belden family receives a rather nice discount for having more than one person at NYU but every little bit will help."

"Well…" Trixie blew at another loose curl. She stared down at her cookie as if the dessert could offer her words of help and wondered how she was going to put her thoughts out to her parents. The only way to do it was it quickly, the way one would pull off a stubborn band-aid. She waited until she was certain her voice sounded strong and sure before she said, "I'm not entirely sold on the first scholarship anymore. I've actually been considering the second one." She slid her eyes up, caught her parents' reaction, and felt absolutely, positively horrible.

Her mother closed her eyes in resignation. She dropped her boneless hands from the table. They landed in her lap where she began to clasp and unclasp them. Words of denial, of refusal, were close to bubbling over but she didn't allow them to cross her lips. She couldn't. Instead, she pressed her lips together to prevent anything from coming out. She couldn't think coherently, let alone speak coherently.

Peter shook his head from side to side and even tapped the palm of his hand against each ear, uncertain if he had heard her correctly. Confused and a lot perplexed, he inquired, "What second offer? Wasn't there only one? I thought that you were going to accept the one for…" His voice trailed off. And then the entire content of the letter came back at him. A rush of air came out of him while he remembered it all. California. University. Criminal justice. Full scholarship. He bit his lip hard to keep from yelling out his negative answer. There was no way in hell he was going to let his princess move the entire way across the country, to go to school by herself at some godforsaken place so far away from her family and her friends. He didn't care if it saved the family millions of dollars in the long run. It wasn't going to happen. The frown on his face told Trixie the depth of his feelings.

"It's only an idea," she remarked, somewhat defensively, and chewed on her lip. If she felt guilty about only talking about the possibility, she couldn't help but wonder how she would feel if she actually did it. "Really. I'm not that sold on it. Yet," she hastened to add, and slid another glance in their direction.

When she was relatively certain she wasn't going to order Trixie to rip that damn scholarship letter to shreds and forget about both of them, Helen opened her mouth to speak for the first time. It generally fell on her shoulders to be the voice of reason. They needed to know more. After clearing her throat from the emotion residing there, she murmured, her normally calm and composed demeanor shaken by her daughter's astonishing admission, "You…you mentioned that you called the scholarship committee. What did they have to say to you, Trixie?"

Peter's dark eyes had narrowed. The thought of his only daughter going away did not make him happy or excited. About to voice his culminating and unhappy thoughts, and in a not very nice way that was certain to offend Trixie, he jerked when his wife gave a hearty stomp on his foot, silencing him before he could even get started.

Trixie heard the groan he couldn't quite muffle and raised her eyebrows curiously. When her father didn't say a thing, only glared at her mother for some reason she couldn't begin to fathom, she offered lowly, "I have the phone number for you, if you want to talk to the person in charge. His name is Mr. Miller. He said that you could call him anytime. He would be glad to answer any questions that you have about the scholarship, as well as the university."

Peter reached behind him and grabbed the pen and pad that Helen insisted was always kept near the phone for messages. He slid them across the table at his daughter. "Write it down, Trixie. I'm…" When he was the recipient of another steely-eyed look from his wife in the matter of a few seconds, he corrected himself immediately, "We are going to want to talk to him."

"He'll tell you the same things that I can." Trixie laid her cell phone by the pad but didn't take the time yet to give him the phone number. She began to explain carefully, "I did some research last night and today on California University. It has the best criminal justice program in the country. It offers a lot of benefits to students who want to pursue the program. One of its strongest assets is the fact that college students are able to complete practicums within local law enforcement and various other related agencies in the area."

"The letter stated that the university had a progressive program." Helen studied her closer, could almost see her starting to disappear from their house. Breathing was becoming harder for her. She took a series of deep, fortifying breaths and tried to come up with a way to stop Trixie from leaving. But she couldn't.

"You did research last night and today?" Peter broke in, hoping he had managed to catch a loophole in her thinking. He poked a whole in it without a second thought. "Last night, Trixie? Today, Trixie? How long have you been entertaining this notion of yours?"

"Really, only for the past day," she answered reluctantly, understanding that her parents wouldn't like her answer and were more than ready to shoot down any weaknesses on her part. "But it didn't feel right for me when I first read the letter last week. That's why I never considered it before. The offer is starting to feel right now."

She could feel her husband's need to jump over Trixie's impulsive thinking. Knowing, just knowing, that it wasn't the right way to handle the situation and would most assuredly push her into a decision they didn't want her to make, Helen grabbed his hand under the table and held onto it. Hard. "Why does it feel right now, Trixie?" she answered in that same calm voice that was hideously hard to maintain while Peter worked just as hard to keep his mouth shut.

There was no way she was going to bring up her problems with Jim. But the catalyst behind her thinking wasn't all him. She latched onto the one part she felt comfortable sharing. "I talked with Honey last night. She doesn't want to go into criminal justice anymore, not after what happened at the store. I'm not certain what she wants to study now but she doesn't want to become a detective or open an agency with me when I'm able to." It didn't hurt as much to voice the words aloud. She figured she was starting to become numb to them. Or maybe it was because a new, unexpected, and tantalizing window had opened up for her.

It was on the tip of his tongue to encourage her to follow in Honey's footsteps and give up criminal justice as well. Part of him was almost jealous that his good friends wouldn't have to worry about their only daughter anymore. Over the years, Peter had been attacked in the middle of the night more than once with nightmares where Trixie had ended up in the hospital because of some mystery she was attempting to solve. Grateful for the touch of his wife that helped kept him grounded and also allowed him to regain some semblance of control, he asked, even though he didn't want to know the answer, "What else did you learn?"

"The basics, really. Everything would be covered. Tuition, room, board, books, supplies, even the plane ticket. Mr. Miller also said that they don't offer this scholarship to many people. He says that they only give it to, well, to the best," she spoke the rest in a rush, her face taking on the dreaded pink color again.

They would certainly be getting the best. Helen began to hope and pray that California wasn't the direction their daughter was going to choose. How she wished it was true. With each breath of air coming in a little harder, she inquired, knowing that there was more, "What else is there, Trixie?"

"He also offered me a summer job, Moms." As much as she wanted to drop her gaze from her mother, she didn't. If she was contemplating going through with it, then she needed to convince her parents that she was serious. Cowering wouldn't help her case. "Apparently there is an opening at one of the agencies in the area. He said it was a paying job and that I could also earn college credit from it, too."

Oh, God. It got worse. For the first time Peter gripped his wife's hand back, just as tightly as she was holding onto his. He wanted to let loose and rant and rave but Helen wouldn't let him. Her grip increased. He could feel her nails starting to dig into his skin. "What is the time frame we're talking about here?"

"I have to let him know my answer by this Friday." She shrugged a shoulder, looked at the cookie she hadn't eaten, and pushed it away. The silence stretched on before she added, "The job would start whenever I could get out there, providing I would leave by this weekend or sometime next week."

Spurred on by her answer, dark eyes glowing with an emotion she couldn't, and didn't, want to decipher, Peter ordered her harshly, "I want that number. Now." Grim-faced, Peter watched Trixie retrieve it from her cell phone and scribble it down on the pad in her nearly illegible scrawl. He accepted it from her with a scowl and stared down at it. "I think I want to give this man a call," he grumbled under his breath and stood up, prepared to give the man on the other end a piece of his rather infuriated mind.

Helen didn't let go of his hand. She kept him there, right next to her, and stopped him from leaving. But she focused her attention on Trixie. She stared at her. "Make certain you think this through, Trixie," she advised her softly, letting her daughter truly know for the first time that she was aware of her troubles with Jim. "Relationships will change."

Trixie caught the implication, thought of her last encounter with Jim. The burst of pain couldn't be combated. She didn't want to give into it, not here, not in front of her parents. "They already have, Moms," she mumbled and blindly stood up from her chair. Tears glinted briefly before she blinked them away. "It's not a definite. Really, it's not. It's only a consideration. And it is flattering to know that someone out there respects my abilities so much that they would actually pay for me to go to school." She sent them a soft, sad, nearly apologetic smile and floated out of the room.

Peter watched her go, with absolutely no expression on his face. He waited until her soft footsteps had faded before he hissed out, finally revealing the depths of his anger and frustration, "What the hell are we going to do, Helen? Where the hell did all of this come from? I mean, here we are, simply sitting down and enjoy an after dinner dessert and then Trixie walks in and throws this godforsaken scholarship at us. We can't let her go to California. We can't!"

Helen released a long, low sigh. "We won't have a choice." She had seen the misery behind the excitement. Had heard the anguish hidden behind the small thrill. And had recognized the heartache behind the pleasure of the flattery. "Peter, we won't. She's eighteen. If she really wants to go, we have to let her or risk losing her." Just as Trixie had done a few minutes ago, she blinked back a few tears of her own.

Uncaring that the old, wooden kitchen table had been in his family for generations, he slammed his chair into it in an uncharacteristic move that caused the small clay pot of cheerful marigolds acting as their centerpiece to wobble in a jumbled dance before slowly righting itself, and ran an agitated hand through his thick hair. "I can't believe she would even consider moving out West. It doesn't make sense. So what if Honey doesn't want to become a detective? Who cares if that damn scholarship committee only offers this opportunity once in a blue moon? I don't. I want her at NYU, with her brothers." And only a car ride away from home.

The fact that he was ranting showed how terrible upset he was. Peter rarely lost control. Helen didn't attempt to soothe him. The only way to handle it was to cut him off at the source. And the only way she could do that was with the truth. "It's not because of Honey's decision or because of the full ride," she remarked insightfully.

He stopped pacing the large country kitchen and whirled around to face her, his face a mask of astonished shock. She knew something else. She had to. It was the only possible reason. His eyebrows snapped together while he probed, "What do you know that I don't know, Helen?"

Because she needed comfort as much as he did, she walked over to him and put her tired head on his shoulder. "It's Jim," she whispered into his ear.

"Jim?" he parroted back while his arms stole around her waist. She had always been his anchor, through the good times and the bad. Fate had been good to them. There hadn't been that many bad times. "He loves her. She loves him. In fact, he wants to marry her," he reminded her, thinking back to the ring he had taken out of the safety deposit box for the young man. "Why would he be the reason she would want to move away from home?"

"Because they had a fight," Helen answered and then corrected herself. "Two fights. From what Mart shared with me last night, they must have been very bad ones. I haven't talked to Trixie about them. I don't think she wants to discuss them with me or with anyone else, really. I think Mart managed to catch her at a susceptible moment last night, which is why he was able to get something out of her. But Mart said that they were bad."

His dark eyes began to gleam. If his princess moved across the country, at least he would have someone to blame. "Jim, is it?" he repeated fiercely, his father's pride stirred. He thought about the redhead who lived on the hill above them and felt a flash of fury flare throughout him. "And what should we do about him?"

"Nothing," Helen replied with what almost passed for a laugh. Her head landed on his chest. She heard his heart beating, much faster and much quicker than it should be. "Trixie told Mart that she was as much to blame as he was over the whole thing. According to Mart, she doesn't want anyone to single Jim out."

If she wasn't there, she would never know. His smile grew bigger. At least he would have an outlet if she were to move, Peter realized quietly to himself. When he heard the sound of a car pull into their driveway, he tore off the paper with the phone number scribbled on it and stuffed it into his pocket. "I'm going into the den, Helen. I'm making that damn call right now. We'd better hurry if we want to get in there before the rest of our family starts rolling in. Are you coming with me?"

"Do you even need to ask? Of course I'm coming with you." They strode down the hall as fast as they could, needing to put as much distance as possible between them and whoever was coming up the back porch steps. Helen entered the den first, with Peter a close second. He closed the door behind them, effectively cutting off anyone from coming inside, and made a bee-line for the phone. His face was stony and set as he began dialing the unfamiliar numbers. His mind was made up. There wasn't any way that the man on the other end could change it.


	27. Chapter 27

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Twenty-Six

Helen pulled her car into the driveway after dropping off Bobby at the Lynches to spend the afternoon and evening with his best friends in the entire world. A sleepover hadn't been mentioned yet but she was positive a call would come sometime in the evening. The troublesome trio always had a hard time calling it a day. More often than not, a visit never ended until the next morning, whether it was at the larger Lynch estate or at cozy Crabapple Farm. As she came to a complete stop in her spot, her smile fell from her face. The next item on her agenda wasn't going to be a pleasant one.

Needing to collect her thoughts for the ordeal ahead of her, she leaned forward. Her hair fell in a soft curtain around her face while she rested her forehead on the steering wheel. She attempted to plan out for the millionth time what she needed to say to Trixie. Her mouth pulled back into a grimace. Since she would have an uninterrupted afternoon with their daughter, she had been voted the one to share their decision with her. It hadn't been a unanimous decision, either. But, with the amount of people in their house at any given moment, she had to reluctantly admit that Peter had made a very strong and valid point when they had discussed it before going to bed last night. They couldn't pass up the opportunity for a quiet mother/daughter chat when there was not a sign of any testosterone in the vicinity. She covered her mouth, fleetingly wondering if the decision they had come to was the correct one for their daughter. Time would tell, she guessed. Sighing, she got out of the car and walked with a mother's weary heart towards the cheerful white farmhouse. Trixie was not going to be pleased with their decision. Whether she chose to accept it or overlook it would be entirely up to her.

As she walked through the front yard, a sporadic, drizzling rain began to fall from the thick clouds above. Helen stood under it, aimed a glance up at the heavens, and decided that the gray of the weather suited her mood perfectly. She almost welcomed the moisture. While the gentle rain came down, images of Trixie in the past began to pass before her eyes. She stopped by a set of lovely purpling azaleas, a fresh set of tears stinging her eyes, while she became lost in the bittersweet potency of the memories. Trixie, as a toddler, was always outside, practically from the crack of dawn and right up to the start of dusk. She was always dirty and half-dressed. At that age, she much preferred running around in her diaper and little else, especially during the summertime. Sometimes, Helen remembered with a tiny, helpless gurgle of a laugh, she could talk her into a pair of shorts but only if they had belonged to one of her brothers. Never, ever a dress. And certainly never anything fancy. She shook her head, almost seeing a tumbling, toddling Trixie with a splotch of dirt on her cheek heading her way, crying because her beloved and idolized brother Mart who did not want to be beloved or idolized by his sister had pushed her down into the dirt again.

She turned her head, glanced in the direction of the path that led to the Manor House. This time it wasn't a toddler. It was a young teenager, just beginning to grow into her beguiling looks. She was proudly wearing a bright red jacket and running down the path with her trademark enthusiasm for life, excited to share with her parents the results of the latest mystery she had solved with her partner and the rest of the Bob-Whites. Open, happy, and full of a radiant, buoyant joy. The vision was the complete opposite of the Trixie who had been floating through their house since Sunday evening. She almost reached out to touch the image but drew her hand back when she realized how absurd the thought was. "Where on earth did the time go?" she wondered aloud, consciously echoing the sentiment that many parents found themselves saying at many different points during their parenthood. "And why does it have to change so much and go by so fast?"

When no answers were forthcoming and the sweet visions faded from her mind, she brushed a mixture of raindrops and tears off of her face and resolutely walked up the front porch steps, mentally preparing herself for the upcoming conversation. With a hand on the door handle, she looked into the living room, through the small squares of the screen door, and caught Trixie unawares. For the first time, she caught her in an unguarded moment. Taking a large step backwards, Helen swallowed down a sharp, painful gasp. The fresh tears that sprang to her eyes weren't for her benefit anymore. They were completely for Trixie. Her first reaction was to throw open the door and gather her baby girl in her arms. But she knew Trixie wouldn't appreciate it; would most likely be humiliated by such an action. Instead, Helen held her body stiff and immovable, hoping Trixie wouldn't catch her watching her, but didn't turn away. She was unable to look anywhere but at her daughter.

Unaware of her interested and empathetic audience, Trixie halted in front of the bookcase she had dusted more times in her life than she could ever count, her profile to the doorway. With shaking hands, she took down the picture that had called across the room to her, the one of her and Jim taken on her prom night, and felt the ache blossom and bloom, all the way through to her splintering heart. It nearly staggered her. Her shoulders slumped. She pressed a hand to her pale cheek, stared down into the innocent photograph. The picture itself seemed to mock her, to almost taunt her with its presence. She tried to look at it objectively but failed miserable. They looked so happy, so much in love, and ready to take on anything, together and for always. She looked first at her own beaming face, almost wondering how the person in the picture could actually be her. The happiness practically glowed out from her. It was almost tangible.

A finger traced her smiling face before her eyes inevitably slipped to the handsome young man to the right of her in the picture. A small cry of pain, of loss, of denial flew from her lips before she could prevent it. The hurt flowed more like a wild, rushing river then; strong, powerful, and undeniable. Jim had an arm wrapped around her waist, his lopsided grin on his face, and his green eyes seemed to gleam, even through the glass of the frame. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't bring herself to close her eyes to it. Instead, she looked her fill, almost as if it was a penance for her own fault in the misunderstandings and hard words that they had shared together.

How on earth could they have messed things up so badly, so quickly? She couldn't have predicted it, certainly never expected it, and definitely didn't want it. Part of her, the emotional, irrational part, would have loved to go back to that joyous night portrayed in the wooden frame, to start everything over from that point on, and to never experience the pain, anguish and uncertainty of the past few days. But the rational part was starting to take over, to curb her stronger emotions, and made her realize that no matter how much she wanted it to happen, she would never be able to have that particular wish granted. She bowed her head in hopeless defeat, laid her forehead against the smooth wood of the shelf in a gesture so like her mother's earlier one that it made Helen hurt even more, and stayed that way for a full minute. Because it helped ease the pain, she put the frame back on the shelf and flipped it down with a definite click, covering up their smiling faces. Sniffling, she resolutely turned away from it.

Mesmerized, and not in a good way, by her daughter's reaction to a simple photograph, Helen stayed on the outside of the door. The raindrops fell harder and created a pinging, rhythmic beat against the roof of the house and the porch. She didn't notice or care. She schooled her features and hoped that the sympathy and the pity she felt for Trixie weren't visible. Ever the prideful one, she wouldn't appreciate it if they were. Trixie couldn't stand being the object of anyone's pity, no matter how well-meaning or caring it was.

Helen couldn't get her feet to move, not yet. With her fingers anxiously drumming against her thigh, she contemplated what she was supposed to share and came to the realization that she couldn't voice it. Not now, not after witnessing the extremely private moment. Her mind made up, she squared her shoulders and went to the door. Peter was going to kill her, she thought with an inward sigh. He was not going to like the content of their conversation at all. Accepting her sudden decision, she pulled the screen door open. For the first time since she had come to live at Crabapple Farm, Helen followed her children's example and let the door slam shut behind her. "Hello, Trixie," she called out loudly and took her time latching the door to give her daughter a few seconds of precious time to compose herself.

Startled, Trixie jolted backwards, nearly tripped on the colorful hooked rug behind her. After she regained her balance, she swiftly swiped away an errant tear. Mourning, she was rapidly discovering, was not an easy thing to do in a household of their size. How she craved some space, some time, some place of her own where she didn't feel like she was constantly on display or didn't have concerned pairs of eyes following her every move or dissecting her every expression. She somehow found the strength within her to paste another one of her rather artificial smiles for her mother's benefit. "Moms," she answered the greeting and gestured towards the kitchen. "I finished with the lunch dishes. They are cleaned, dried, and put away. I was thinking about heading up to my room. I need to do…" Nothing. She had nothing. She had absolutely nothing to do, nothing to occupy her time. God, she was pitiful and pathetic. She put a steadying hand on the bookshelf. When her hand touched the side of that frame, she jerked it back as if she had been burned.

Helen saw the move, figured out what had caused it, and took her time crossing the length of the room, her heart aching for what she was about to do. Pinning a smile on her face that matched Trixie's, she took her daughter's hand and led her over to the sofa. "Come, Trixie," she invited softly, already preparing her defenses for her irate husband. "Sit with me for a few minutes. It's been a busy day for us and I could use the break. I'm certain you could, too."

Much as she had done when her mother had gently pulled her into a place that she didn't want to go into when she was younger, such as the doctor's office, the dentist, or her own elementary school, Trixie allowed herself to be tugged forward with a wary expression on her face. When she realized she needed to say something, she remarked idly, "I'll be glad to keep you company, Moms. Was Bobby excited about his day with Larry and Terry?"

Her lips curved up slightly. She settled onto the sofa and laid her nervous hands on her knees. This question, at least, she could handle. "He couldn't stop talking about it. They have a Lego game to play on the X-Box. I think it was Harry Potter. Or maybe it was Star Wars. I can't ever keep up with the new games. Bobby had a paper of directions and potential short-cuts that he printed off of the internet for the game. I imagine they'll spend the entire day and most of the evening in front of the television set, playing the game until they can't see straight."

It was a lovely picture. Her brother and his best friends, having a fun day together. Trixie curled into the corner of the sofa, putting a bit of distance between them, and hugged a pillow to her chest, touched by the image. "If they do that, at least they will stay out of Mrs. Lynch's way," she offered quietly. "They won't be much of a bother at all."

"It's got to be better than when they decided to make sugar cookies in the Lynches' kitchen from scratch. Poor Harrison! From what I understand, he almost needed therapy after he saw the major mess that the three managed to create in the always spotless kitchen." Helen chuckled at the story but was secretly delighted it hadn't happened in her home. She wouldn't have been able to laugh about it then. At least, not for a few, long years.

"Di said that they were still finding remnants of the old batter around the kitchen for weeks later," Trixie shared, pleasantly surprised that she could enjoy the humor in the story. She plucked at the fringed edges of the pillow and lightly grinned at the foolishness of the scene. Like her mother, she appreciated the fact that it hadn't happened at Crabapple Farm.

Helen dusted off the knees of her thin cotton capris and declared briskly, "Well, we could sit here and talk about silly things for the next hour. I have a ton of stories I could share that would keep us entertained. Or we could have that serious talk I'm certain you've been nervously awaiting since last evening." She pulled herself up and met Trixie's gaze directly. "Which would you prefer to do, Trixie?"

The pillow fell from her nerveless fingers and dropped to the floor with a small thud. Trixie didn't make a move to pick it up. Unfolding herself from the corner, she sat up, straight as an arrow, and attempted to read her mother's face. She couldn't. She hadn't expected her mother to bring up the subject. She had believed that both of her parents would have wanted to talk to her at the same time. There had been too many family members at the breakfast table. There was also the fact that she was also relatively certain that she didn't want to know their answer "Serious. I think," she added hesitatingly.

Helen gathered her thoughts and prayed that Peter would forgive her for what she was about to say. At least her defense was strong. He couldn't argue against the misery she had seen on their daughter's face. If putting distance between them was what she needed to deal with her problems with Jim, then Helen would help her do it, despite Peter's vehement objections. "You probably wouldn't be surprised to know that you really caught your father and I off-guard last night," she began slowly and honestly.

"You never suspected when you read my letter last week that I would ever consider accepting the full scholarship or that I would even want to change schools and go to California University instead of NYU." Trixie's voice softened as she added grimly, "I didn't suspect it, either."

"I know, dear." Helen reached over and patted Trixie's knee. "We went into the den after you went upstairs. Your father placed the call to your Mr. Miller. He was very nice, polite and considerate of our feelings. He also answered every single question your father and I had. They talked for a good hour." Helen had sat next to him through it all, with her ear as close to the phone as she could manage. The only time she had left was to shoo a curious Mart away from the den. She had even brought up a few concerns of her own. She had heard enough to know that Mr. Miller was sincere in his desire to give Trixie the opportunity to attend California University, as well as provide her with an exceptional summer job that she was certain Trixie would enjoy. He had patiently and carefully answered every single one of Peter's questions. When they had hung up, the two hadn't been convinced, mainly because they didn't want their daughter to go. It wouldn't have mattered what Mr. Miller had told them. Helen was rapidly discovering that the only one who could have made her change her mind was Trixie. Without uttering a single word, Trixie had managed to do it.

"I'm certain Daddy had a lot of questions," Trixie remarked when her mother remained quiet for too long. She inhaled deeply and prepared herself for the negative response she was certain was coming her way. The blessed relief that California promised her began to evaporate.

Helen shook her head, laughed slightly, and held her daughter's hand, much as she had held onto her husband's the night before. This time, she wasn't giving support. She was the one receiving it, whether Trixie realized it or not. "Mr. Miller was very patient with your father. He didn't get tired or sidestep any of the almost endless string of questions. He answered them all, completely and fully, and he did his best to alleviate our concerns." She drew in a deep gulp of much-needed air. "California is so far away, dear."

She had spent most of yet another sleepless night believing that she wouldn't have her parents' permission to accept the full scholarship. "I know, Moms," she murmured quietly, steeling herself for the negative answer she was certain was coming her way.

"You want to know our input on your decision. I can tell." Helen saw Trixie's knee start to jiggle and understood how nervous she really was. The same nerves were dancing an impressive jig within her own stomach. Before she went any farther, Helen clarified, "You do know that this is only our input, right? You are eighteen, Trixie. You are a legal adult. No matter what we say or what we believe is best for you, the decision is ultimately yours to make. We won't stand in your way."

"I understand that," Trixie replied while the thought that she would have to face the rest of the summer with Jim and then start a school year with him hit her hard. She didn't know if she had the strength to do it, especially with so many concerned people intently watching their every movement. She hated being on display. She hated even more that she was in such a precarious position with Jim. "I trust you, Moms. I trust Daddy, too. I wouldn't want to hurt either one of you for the world."

Helen inhaled sharply. The words she had never expected to say came out on a rush. "You get to go to California, if you want to." Even though it was difficult to get out, she couldn't deny the fact that they were the right ones to say. Trixie deserved the chance to choose, without their interference. Oh, but Peter was not going to be happy. Her pretty eyes reflected that fact before she forced a tiny smile to her trembling lips.

In the past, when her parents had given her permission for an important event, especially unexpected permission, such as for an upcoming Bob-White trip she had truly believed she wouldn't be able to attend, she had let out a loud whoop or danced up and down in delight. While she was thankful and appreciative of their choice, she couldn't dredge up the same amount of excitement. Instead, she squeezed her mother's hand and answered solemnly, "Thank you, Moms. I didn't expect to hear you say that. I thought you were going to tell me that it was the worst possible choice for me to make or that you and Daddy didn't want me to go."

Both of her thoughts had been right on the money. But Helen couldn't have shared them with her, not when she had witnessed the abject misery on her daughter's face. If the distance was what she needed to recover, then she was damn well going to get it, Helen thought fiercely with a curt nod. She would simply have to convince Peter of it. "I know, dear. I was rather surprised myself," she remarked frankly, a low, lilting laugh trailing nervously out of her lips.

Feeling an immense amount of relief, more than she had anticipated, Trixie tried to stand up but her mother wouldn't let go of her hand. Concerned, she ended back on the sofa, with her knees touching her mother's. "Moms?" she inquired curiously.

"Our talk's not finished yet, Trixie." Helen scooted closer. She let go of Trixie's hand, draped a motherly arm around her shoulder, and pulled her tighter. She had an important point that needed to be driven home. "I want to make certain that you understood the far-reaching effects of your choice. If you remember correctly, I mentioned to you last night that if you decide to go through with this momentous decision, it could have some serious and long-lasting ramifications. Do you know what I mean by that?"

It wasn't her brothers' reaction or the response that most of the Bob-Whites would have that her mother was referring to. They may not be ecstatic about it but they would at least attempt to understand and maybe even support her. They certainly wouldn't hold a grudge against her even if they didn't truly understand. No, her mother was talking about one person only. Jim. "Yes," Trixie mumbled under her breath. She squeezed her eyes shut to block out yet another set of tears from escaping and then declared in a thin, watery voice, "You're talking about Jim."

"Yes, I am. Jim," Helen repeated strongly. She laid her head on top of Trixie's. Together, they both looked ahead, at the television set that wasn't turned on. Her words would hurt Trixie but she needed to say them. Trixie had to understand the consequences of her choice. "Jim won't like it, Trixie. He probably won't be able to accept it, either. Ever. I can tell you that right now with absolute certainty. If you decide to go to California, you will be the one closing the door on your relationship."

"I think he has already done that," Trixie whispered forlornly under her breath. She firmly believed it. She gave her head a vehement shake that sent her curls dancing. "I don't want to talk about it anymore, Moms. I really don't."

Helen sighed. Thinking wasn't quite as certain as knowing. She could have pointed it out but knew herself that Trixie wouldn't appreciate it. Instead, she advised carefully, "You have to be absolutely certain, Trixie. There won't be any going back for you once you commit."

"I understand, Moms." She did, much more than her mother was giving her credit for. Although she had only been giving the idea proper thought for a little over twenty-four hours, she had taken the time to look at it from all sides. She had already predicted Jim's response. In her mind, she understood that he would be experiencing exactly what she was going through. It wasn't fun. It wasn't pleasant. But, given time, she hoped she would heal. As would he.

"Before you make that final decision, you need to have completely thought it through. I know you, dear. You can be impulsive and impetuous. They are two of your defining traits, even though you may not want them to be." She touched Trixie on the chin, apologizing with her eyes for the less-than-flattery description. "Then there's the fact that Jim has always been one of the most important people in your life, if not the most important. It's been that way since you met him when you were thirteen years old." Helen felt bad for bringing up the memories that were obviously painful for her daughter but pressed on, "The relationship will change. Your decision will change it, Trixie."

Trixie thought back to the picture on the shelf and the pain that looking at it had brought up to the surface. She couldn't imagine what it would be like when he returned, to have to see him at Bob-White functions or run into him when she visited Honey or he came down to her house to see one of her brothers, if he dredged up the guts to set foot on her home turf. And then to attend the same university as him...Her lips pressed together into a small, thin white line. "You're right, Moms. I know that he won't like my choice," she mumbled, staring down at their intertwined hands. "But he didn't give me much of one before he left, did he? A break is what he thought was best for us. It's what he wanted."

Helen closed her eyes in resignation. Part of her wanted to slap him for even suggesting such a thing. How could someone who was smart enough to skip an entire grade during his schooling have had the stupidity to bring up such a suggestion to his girlfriend? He obviously hadn't considered how the female mind worked, which plainly showed her how much he was hurting, too. "I'm certain he only meant until he came home from camp," she mustered in his defense because she had always liked Jim.

"He didn't clarify, other than to say that we would settle it later," she shot back, more hotly than she had intended.

And showed Helen even more clearly the depth of her daughter's pain. "Well, you need to consider more than just the immediate effects. Sure, you would be able to put aside your own pain and your issues with Jim for a few months. But what happens when you come home for Thanksgiving or Christmas break? Or Spring Break? Then, of course, there's summer vacation. He's going to be here, Trixie. You move in the same circles. You have the same friends. What's going to happen then?" Very valid points, ones she hadn't thought of until this very moment. She hoped that they would help Trixie decide in the negative.

As the moon had began its descent and the sun had started to rise early in the morning, she had started to contemplate the answer to the questions her mother had posed to her. With her heart in her eyes, she looked into her mother's face and finally, willingly, let her see the depths of her misery. It was even worse than the stolen moment Helen had been able to witness before coming into the house. "I can't, Moms," she murmured, her voice low, soft, and breaking. She pressed a finger to her forehead, closed her eyes, and found the strength to share, "I can't go to the same school with him. I can't even live in the same town with him. Eventually, he'll find someone new." She drew in a painful, hitching breath. "I can't stand by and watch him fall in love with someone else. I simply can't."

Helen couldn't combat her daughter's hopelessness with any arguments. They could have been the best, clearest, most well-thought arguments ever. It didn't matter. She couldn't say anything that would beat the heartache within her. "Oh, Trixie," she said instead, giving up, and pulled her close, offering her the only comfort that she could. Her arms wrapped tightly around her daughter.

Trixie resolutely fought back the tears. She was not going to give into them, not again. Her blonde curls mingled with her mother's while she worked hard to control her breathing. Then she pulled back and brushed aside her last stray tear. "Thanks, Moms," she said softly, thanking her for more than she probably even knew.

Helen reached out and tenderly smoothed back Trixie's curls. "You've made your choice already, haven't you?" she asked insightfully.

Trixie nodded slowly. Once the idea had taken hold, she couldn't push it away. It had been firmly entrenched in her mind. "But only if you and Daddy had agreed. I wouldn't have done it without your permission. I wouldn't never have accepted the scholarship and moved that far away without your blessing. I promise you that."

Helen placed a kiss on her forehead and lied to Trixie for the first time in the eighteen years of her young life, "You have our blessing, Trixie. Both your father's and mine."

Trixie stood up, hardly daring to believe that she was about to take the first step away from her family and her friends. Her legs wobbled but she locked her knees to keep herself standing. An odd sense of exhilaration came over. It may not have been what she had dreamed about but she couldn't disguise the fact that her decision was the best one for her. "I really can't thank you enough, Moms. I hate to say it but I feel like I need to go." She thought about the summer job and brought it up. "What about the job at the agency? Did you and Daddy talk about that, too?"

Of course. They had both been adamant that she refuse it, too. Helen dug an even deeper hole for herself when she announced, "It's a great opportunity, Trixie, both for experience and also for the college credits. It couldn't hurt to start your freshman year with a few credits already under your belt. And, again, it is your decision. We're not going to hold you back from it."

She could really be gone before Jim returned home. Trixie's eyes flared open at the thought. She could do it. She really could. Trixie glanced in the direction of the picture she had flipped over. A new place, with a new beginning. It could be exactly what she needed. This time, she did embrace her mother. It didn't have the exuberance of her early teenage years but it had something even better. Love, respect, and a deep wealth of gratitude. "Thanks again, Moms."

"My pleasure," Helen murmured, holding on tightly to her daughter, memorizing the feel of her in her arms.

Trixie pulled back first. She tucked a curl behind her ear. "Umm, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to keep it between us for now. I want to be the one to share it with Brian and Mart. Bobby, too," she added as an afterthought.

Helen's smile nearly wavered. She had never considered how her brothers would take the news. They weren't going to be happy. She almost wished that she could pack a bag and join Trixie on the trip. Crabapple Farm wasn't going to be a fun place to live in for the rest of the summer. "Yes, Trixie. You should be the one to tell them." She almost offered to let Trixie tell her father, too, but figured that would be the coward's way out.

"I will. I'll call a Bob-White meeting to let everyone know at the same time. I don't think I want to say it more than once." Trixie pictured the scene and shivered. It wasn't going to be enjoyable. Then she thought about her cell phone, resting and waiting for her up in her room. "If it's all right with you, I think I have a phone call to make."

Helen nodded her head dumbly. She watched her daughter walk towards the stairs with unseeing eyes. She couldn't help but notice that Trixie carried herself with a more confident air about her than she had before. When she had disappeared from view, Helen melted against the wall, her head in her hands, and whispered brokenly, "Oh, my. What have I done?" She crossed her fingers, hoping against hope that Peter wouldn't be too furious with her.


	28. Chapter 28

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The reflection staring back at her was familiar and yet different. The eyes were the same brilliant blue. The blonde curls framing the face were the same. Even the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose was nothing out of the ordinary. And yet, somehow, the entire package was vaguely different. More mature, more composed, maybe even more remote than she used to be. Trixie leaned across her dresser, stared deep into her mirror, and noted the changes. She almost didn't recognize herself. Closing her eyes, she tried to recall what she had been doing only a week ago. A sleepover at Di's. What a difference a week could make, she thought to herself, picturing the fun, carefree and relaxed night in her mind. It was nearly unfathomable that she had been brought to such a different point in her life.

There wasn't anything she could do about it now. Her decision had been made. Her course was set, for better or for worse, and she didn't have any desire to turn back, no matter what anyone had to say to her or how hard they tried to convince her that she was in the wrong. Firmly believing that she had made the smartest, most acceptable choice, she moved back from the dresser. Pausing at the doorway, her gaze swept over her bedroom. It, too, didn't fit her quite as well as it used to. While it saddened her to admit it, she knew it to be true.

Shaking away the melancholy, she took a deep, steadying breath. There wasn't much time left before she needed to meet the others at the Manor House. Honey had graciously offered to host her request for a Bob-White get-together. Trixie had recognized the curiosity behind Honey's questions but hadn't given her a reason for the meeting. Once the place was secured, she had called or texted the others to ensure a complete meeting. Nearly complete, she corrected hastily, trying not to think about the lone member who would not be in attendance. Everyone else was coming, even though it was a Thursday evening and they had work on the morrow. Squaring her shoulders, she threw open the door. The walk down the stairs went by quickly, a little too quickly, and then she ended up in the living room.

Peter glanced up from the sofa where he had been attempting to read day's edition of _The Sleepyside Sun _the second he sensed her presence. Attempting to read was the accurate phrase. None of the impossibly tiny black words printed on the newsprint paper were making any sense to him. Nothing had made much sense to him all day. He could only hope that he hadn't made a fool of himself at the bank that day. To counteract the possibility, he had closed himself off in his office and had only come out for lunch and when it was time to leave. Folding the paper carefully along its neat folds, he laid it on the coffee table without a second thought and nodded at his daughter. "Hello, princess," he said softly, hiding his own thoughts and pain at her decision to leave them behind a welcoming smile.

Her heart nearly broke at the endearment. He didn't use it as much with her as he used to, now that she was older. When he did call her it, it made her want to melt. Trixie skirted around the coffee table and sank down onto the cushion next to him. "Hi, Daddy," she replied softly. She threw a cautious glance down the hallway, scouted out the area, but couldn't hear any sounds. No one appeared to be in danger of coming across them. Then she threw her arms around him and whispered quietly in his ear, "Thank you so much. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your support."

Any remaining doubts he had fled at the earnestly whispered words. Left with no other option, he hugged her back, cursed the moisture that welled up in his eyes, and answered hoarsely, "You're welcome, Trixie." He couldn't bring himself to say anything else. God, he was going to miss her.

She drew back, swiped a finger under each eye, and prayed that she wouldn't be doing much crying over the next hour. She hated crying, had always viewed it more of a weakness than an asset, but she couldn't seem to help herself. Not with the current situation she found herself in. She sent him a grateful smile that didn't come remotely close to reaching her eyes. "I'm heading out to meet the others in a few minutes," she shared.

"Is it time to tell them?" Peter guessed accurately.

Her head bobbed up and down while she chewed on her bottom lip. "Yes. I can't let too much time go by before I let them in on it. Otherwise, the Bob-Whites would either find out about my choice when I'm on the plane or when I've already landed. I don't think they would be very happy with me then," she said at a brave attempt at levity.

He gamely joined her in a small chuckle, although neither of them found any humor in the subject. Then Peter inquired, thinking back to the date his wife had given him last night, "Saturday, right?"

Her plane ticket had practically materialized out of thin air only hours after confirming her choice with Mr. Miller. She had to give the man credit. He really knew how to get things done. He had also managed to get her on a direct flight, straight out of JFK, which she was extremely thankful for. She had never flown by herself before. At least she didn't have to worry about missing any connecting flights. "Yes. It's a little faster than I had originally thought but faster may be better. I don't know. Do you think so?"

He gave a non-committal shrug, unable to agree or disagree with her. Two days. Glancing at the clock ticking away the minutes, he grimly corrected himself. It was less than two days before she was going to be gone from their home, to only return during the college breaks. "If you think it's the right choice for you to make, Trixie, then so do I," he declared instead. "Your mother and I are right there behind you."

It was the right choice. She could feel it down to the tips of her toes. She would be settled in San Diego, with a job at an actual private detective agency, well before Jim even returned home from camp. Worried, she scrunched up her nose, wishing that she had a better way of telling him about her move other than by not being there when he came home. She would come up with some way of explaining things to him, of saying goodbye, of trying to ask for his understanding. But not his forgiveness, though, she thought with a scowl. Then she pushed the matter off to the side. For now, she had to focus on what she was going to say to the rest of the Bob-Whites and how they would react to her news. She would worry about the Jim issue afterwards.

He watched her face fleetingly reflect each of her different thoughts but couldn't come up with a way to analyze them. "Are you meeting everyone at the clubhouse?" he wondered aloud. He lifted his eyebrows at her vehement response, perplexed.

"Oh, no. No! Not there." Trixie shuddered at the memories. As much as she loved the clubhouse and what it stood for, she had no plans to ever set foot near it. At least, not anytime in the foreseeable future. She needed time to heal before she went there. "I called Honey first since today was her first full day of work. We agreed that her house would be the best place to meet. She wouldn't have to travel at all, just in case she's feeling tired from work. It's also a pretty central place, too. Everyone agreed to meet me there."

He wanted to ask her if she was certain. He desperately wanted to share with her that it wasn't too late yet, that she could change her mind and stay home, with them, but he didn't. He had never had any success at all in changing her mind once it was made up. Some people viewed her impulsivity as one of her strongest, most defining traits. For him, it was her tenacity. Instead, he inquired, "Are you taking up that amazing chocolate cake you and your mother made today?"

It was three layers of cake, with homemade chocolate pudding serving lying between each layer. It had been liberally covered with homemade icing. Chocolate, of course. It looked like a masterpiece. "Moms and I puzzled over how to get everyone together today. We thought making a dessert was a great way to entice all of the Bob-Whites into a meeting, especially when they don't know the purpose behind it. Chocolate cake is a favorite so that's what we decided to make." Trixie fluttered her hands, a sure sign that she was more nervous than she was letting on.

As much as he wanted to deny her choice of leaving, he couldn't. Helen had spent a good two hours the evening before verbally pounding her reasons into him while he had restlessly paced the length of their bedroom, over and over again. But it had only taken that one significant mention of their daughter in emotional pain for him to have completely accepted Helen's decision. The picture she had conjured up for him hadn't been a pretty one, was one he wouldn't have liked to have seen their daughter in. He hadn't admitted it to Helen yet but he wouldn't have been able to stand firm on their first decision, either. While he didn't exactly approve of it and definitely didn't want her to leave, he wasn't going to stand in Trixie's way. When he heard the loud, insistent footsteps of her older brothers coming their way, he knew that they would feel the same way, too. "Looks like it's time," he murmured and squeezed her hand for support. "Good luck, Trixie."

"Thanks," she mumbled back. "I think I'm going to need it." Trixie rose on legs that wanted to buckle when her older brothers came into the room.

Something like tension or apprehension hung in the air. Instantly wary, Brian felt it immediately. The easy smile that had been on his face fell off. Glancing from his father to his sister, he instinctively knew that it had to do with his sister. "I think we should get going," he said to Trixie. "Mart here is giving that cake you made some extremely fond glances. If we don't leave now, it's going to be gone before we make it to the Manor House."

Mart hadn't picked up on the odd vibes. He gave Brian a playful nudge to the shoulder, held out his hands in supplication, and defended himself, "Hey, I'm only admiring it because I'm amazed that our darling sister helped create it. You could have knocked me over with a feather when Moms announced that Trixie did most of the work. I always thought she was more of an unfortunate klutz in the kitchen than anything else." It wasn't true but he wanted to get a rise out of her.

Any other day, at any other time, Trixie would have complied, bristled, and made a snappy comeback. Tonight, she took the not-quite-good-natured teasing in the way it was meant to be, actually enjoyed it for the first time ever, and unconsciously memorized it. It would be a long time before she would be the recipient of it again. She joined her brothers and sent a smile of farewell towards her father. "Brian's right. We need to get going. They're probably waiting on us. Do you want to walk or drive up to Honey's?"

Brian met his father's eyes over her head, held them for a long, long moment, and came to the stunning realization that the sudden meeting wasn't merely about getting together and having dessert. He glanced back at Trixie as an unwelcome and an ugly thought cagily snuck its way in. Then he swung his head back to his father's, the question hanging in the air between them, unvoiced but most certainly asked. When Peter nodded at him, the color fled from his face. He knew. "We should walk," he declared hoarsely, his heart hammering in his chest.

"What? Are you kidding me, Brian?" Mart stared at him like he was crazy and then shrugged a fatalistic shoulder when Brian didn't answer. "You get to carry the cake, then, brother dear. I hope you don't drop it," he joked. When another sibling didn't rise to the bait, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his shorts and frowned at them disconsolately. With both of his siblings wearing the same small, almost sad smile on their faces, he started to lead the troop towards the kitchen. "Let's go, gang," he muttered, but his earlier good mood had evaporated into nothingness.

It was a solemn, silent group of three that trudged up the path. Mart complained every few steps, grumbling about how it would have been better to have driven instead of walking to the house. Other than the sounds of the summer evening or his grunts and groans, it was an exceedingly quiet trip. None of the three could ever remember walking up the well-known and well-traveled path that silently before. When they broke through the last line of forest before reaching the wide lawn, Mart finally broke the silence and demanded an answer. "All right!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in defeat. "Before we go into that house, someone had better tell me what's going on. I feel like we're walking to a funeral. Trixie hasn't spoken a single word since we left the house. You haven't either, Brian. What the hell have I missed out on?"

Trixie wanted to take pity on him and clue him in. Confusion, apprehension and even a twinge of fear were evident on her almost-twin's face. But she couldn't let him know ahead of the others. He would give it away. He shared her same trait of impulsivity, although she had to grudgingly admit that he was better about curbing it than she was. Then there was the fact that she only wanted to announce it once. She didn't think she had the strength to keep going over it. Once would be enough. Instead of answering, she started forward. Wanting to distract him, she pointed towards the driveway. "Look, Mart! Dan just pulled up. And I see Mrs. Lynch's car is already here. Di must have driven it over. We're the last ones to arrive." She slipped away quickly before he could stop her.

"She didn't answer my question," Mart grouched under his breath to his brother, his eyes narrowed dangerously on her departing back.

"Don't worry. She will," Brian mumbled back, his forehead wrinkling. He followed her every movement as she scurried across the lawn and over to the driveway. While he was glad to see some type of excitement returning to her, he couldn't help but wish the cause was different. It was going to be extremely lonely without her around. "She's right, though. Dan's waiting for us. So are the rest of the Bob-Whites. Let's go, Mart. Let's get this over with."

Mart rolled his eyes, frustrated that neither of them had offered him a satisfactory answer. Left with no other recourse, he plodded behind his brother, mumbling incoherent words every few steps about older brothers, younger sisters, and chocolate cake. Thinking of the dessert, he swung his head over to look at it. It looked delicious in its travel container but, for the first time since he had sniffed it out in their kitchen, he wasn't feeling much hunger for it.

Dan stood at the edge of the walk, waiting for the trio to join him. Trixie was first, with her brothers a close second. "Hello, Beldens," he called out cheerfully. Thumbs in the loops of his shorts, he rocked back on his heels. "An evening get-together; twice in one week. What a treat! We haven't managed to do that since all seven of us were in the same school," he finished with a laugh.

Trixie smiled up at him but didn't correct the number. There were only six. The seventh one was far away. "That's true, Dan. Moms thought a cake would be a great way for us to celebrate a Thursday evening. We made it together this afternoon." Not only had the activity kept them busy but it had also helped keep both of their minds off of a certain subject and the increasingly draining hours before her departure.

He gave the cake a comical look and then said in a loud stage whisper, "Are you sure it's edible?"

Not in the mood to tease anymore, Mart only grunted in response. He saw Di and Honey waiting for them on the wide front porch of the Manor House. He stalked forward without saying a word, a silent and unsmiling Brian at his heels.

Dan scowled after them. Brian and Mart hadn't said anything. Even more disconcerting, Mart hadn't jumped at the chance to playfully tease his sister. Whirling around, he frowned at their sister, the only one readily available for him to question. "All right, Trixie. Something's up here. What's wrong with your brothers?"

She was beginning to feel like she had a sign pinned to her shirt, announcing that a change was coming. "They're just being their usual selves," she responded in an attempt to deflect any more questioning.

He didn't buy it. His frown deepened while his eyes turned even darker. "No, they're not. Brian is always quiet but he's never this quiet. And Mart never misses out on a chance to poke some fun at you, especially when someone else tries to instigate it." He jerked his thumb in their direction, not fooled for a moment. He gently pulled her back by the shoulder when she started to follow them, studied her with a large amount of intensity that had her blushing a brilliant red, and saw the truth of it. Part of it, at least. He didn't know the reasoning but it was clear who was involved. From the way the brothers Belden were acting, it had to be huge, distressing and monumental. "It's you, Trixie. Isn't it? You're the reason why we're getting together tonight. It's not just a chance to eat a dessert. You have something to tell us."

She tried for an easy smile but failed. As her luck would have it, she couldn't put anything past him; had never been successful at it. Dan could read her like a book, as, apparently, so could her brothers. "You'll find out soon enough, Dan. The others are watching us from the porch. We should join them."

He didn't feel like laughing or joking anymore. As they walked up the path to the house, his hands in his pockets and hers twitching anxiously at her side, he questioned out of the corner of his mouth, "This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain missing someone, would it?"

"It could be. I'll let you decide. Afterwards." She lifted her shoulders. Then she turned to him, implored him with her eyes, "I'll tell everyone together but later. For now, let's have the cake first, Dan, and try to enjoy the evening. Then I'll be glad to tell you, and everyone else, everything."

About to answer, he was interrupted by Honey. She welcomed everyone with a wide smile, unaware of the fact that she and Di were the only relaxed guests. The chocolate cake beckoned to her. Since chocolate was one of her biggest weaknesses, she didn't mind encouraging everyone to eat it first. "Where do you want to have the cake?" she asked, looking around the wide, inviting porch.

"Let's eat out here. Your porch is beautiful," Di decided, clapping her hands. The porch had a lovely swing, countless chairs, and two gliders; more than enough seats for their group. Matching cushions with large sunflowers set across a background of deep blue adorned each seat. Hanging plants swayed in the soft breeze. Di claimed the porch swing without a moment's hesitation. "It's such a lovely evening. It's not too hot. It's not raining. It's just perfect. Finally."

"That's a wonderful idea, Di!" Honey agreed immediately. "I'll go in and grab the plates and the forks." She was gone in a flash, with Trixie right behind her.

"Honey looks terrific. It won't be too much longer before her bruise is completely gone. I think there will only be a tiny scar," Di noted with a sigh of relief. She turned to Brian who had placed the container on a small side table and then taken a seat on one of the comfortable wooden chairs next to her. "How is she holding up at work?"

"Terrific, exactly as you said," Brian answered honestly. "Honey worked a half-day yesterday. Today was her first full day back. She was able to keep up with everything. Everyone at the office was very impressed with her. She didn't look tired when I dropped her off a few hours ago. She looked happy."

"I'm glad to hear that." She set the swing in motion with her foot while she hoped that Mart would take the unoccupied seat next to her. "I was hoping you would say that. I was a little worried that she may not be feeling well since we were meeting here instead of at the clubhouse."

Dan slipped a lean hip on the edge of the railing. He could have shared with Di the reason why they weren't at the clubhouse but decided against it. Trixie wouldn't appreciate it. Thinking of her, he watched the doorway for her return, more interested in what Trixie had to say than in the cake itself.

Honey and Trixie returned with an armful of plates, plastic silverware, plastic cups and a gallon of freshly brewed homemade iced tea, courtesy of their cook. "My mother and father went out after dinner," she shared as she helped settle the items on a side table. "They won't be back for awhile yet. I think they were driving into town to get a dessert themselves. For some reason, they didn't want to stop at Mr. Lytell's store for ice cream," she remarked, biting back a chuckle.

"I knew my boycott would work," Dan answered cheerfully. He lightly tapped Trixie on the shoulder. "See, Trix. Even though the old fool apologized, he's still going to have to deal with the wrath of the Bob-Whites. People around here should know that you should never mess with one of us."

Trixie joined in the chuckles while she contemplated what Honey had shared. The possible presence of the Wheelers had unnerved her. How would they react to her news? Hopefully she wouldn't have to find out firsthand, she thought with a sigh.

Mart finally took the hint and sat down next to Di. He absently grabbed her hand while he watched Honey slowly release the cake from its plastic prison. The sight of the triple-decker creation that his sister and his mother had created was enough to make him put aside his own worries for the moment. He began a running commentary to Honey as she cut the first slice made almost everyone laugh. "Honey! That's too small for Bobby. You can make my first piece a little bigger, you know." When he reached for his piece of pure, chocolate heaven, he sighed in gratitude. "Now this is a perfect slice of cake. Thank you very much, Miss Wheeler."

Trixie accepted a much smaller slice for herself. She put the plate on another small table while she busied herself filling up the cups and handing them out. When everyone had cake, a drink, and everything else they needed, she sat down on a chair, intentionally a little farther apart from the rest. Her cake sat, untouched, while her eyes skimmed over the others. She almost laughed at the site of her almost-twin shoving his second piece of cake into his mouth, with a smiling and adoring Di watching him. Brian, she realized, hadn't uttered a word since she had come back from the kitchen. In fact, he hadn't eaten his dessert, either. It sat in front of him, as untouched as hers. Honey was giggling at something Dan had said to her, but, again, Trixie could see that he hadn't eaten much, either. Oh, boy, she thought to herself, her palms starting to sweat. It sucked that they were already suspicious. She grabbed a napkin to wipe her hands. Then she took a refreshing sip of her iced tea to wet her suddenly dry throat.

Di leaned back against the swing, rubbed her stomach and exclaimed dramatically, "Trixie, you missed your calling. That was the best chocolate cake I have ever eaten!" Much as her boyfriend was doing, she eyed it again. "In fact, I'm tempted to have another piece."

"I'm glad you liked it, Di," Trixie replied, wondering how she was going to introduce what she needed to bring up. Now that the time had arrived, she had absolutely no idea how to do it. "But most of the credit needs to go to Moms. It was her recipe. I only helped."

Mart sat back with a loud, delighted sigh. "As much as it pains me to do so, I have to echo Di's sentiments. Trixie, it was delicious. A slice of pure chocolate heaven." He wondered if he should make an attempt on a third piece. Deciding that it wouldn't hurt anything, he was reaching for the knife when Brian interrupted his motion.

"Trixie." Brian only said one word but it caused everyone to stop what they were doing. Four interested faces looked back at him, two in absolute confusion, two with flares of suspicion. She was the only one who didn't respond. He pushed aside his plate. "I think it's time for you to share why you wanted to have us get together tonight."

Then the four pairs of eyes swung towards Trixie, at the other side of the porch. Whether she wanted it to be or not didn't matter. It was time. As much as she hated to do it, she stood up and immediately became the center of attention.

"An ulterior motive," Mart mused into the ensuing silence, rubbing his chin with his fingers. "And here I thought our meeting was because you wanted to show us your rather delightful expertise in the kitchen, Trix." He gave the cake one last, longing look.

Honey inclined her head to the side, studying Trixie thoughtfully. She saw the uneaten cake at her side, the nerves behind the tentative smile on her face, the edgy look to her eyes. She pressed her lips together tightly, suddenly worried about Trixie and her reasoning behind the evening get-together. It didn't seem as innocent as she had thought it to be. While she waited for Trixie to respond, she ran through a list of possible reasons. Nothing stood out. Nothing seemed a possibility. Lost in the dark, she realized all she could do was wait.

"The cake is a peace offering," Dan noted insightfully.

"Not exactly. It was more of a reason for us to meet," Trixie hedged nervously. "I didn't think of it as a peace offering or as an ulterior motive," she repeated to Mart.

Ever the hostess, Honey declared tactfully, "Well, whatever it was, it was certainly delicious. Thanks for coming up with the idea and for making it with us, Trixie."

"I want to hear more about why you wanted us together." Mart had a serious amount of energy that needed to be worked off but he couldn't do anything about it yet. He stood up from the porch swing and leveled steely blue eyes on Trixie. He hooked a thumb towards Brian. "It seems that our eldest sibling over there already has an idea about what you want to tell us. Let's hear it, Beatrix."

Brian, already aware of what Trixie was going to share, unobtrusively moved so that he was closer to her than the others. She was going to need all the support that she could get. He caught the way her back went ram-rod straight at Mart's use of her hated first name and glared reproachfully at him.

Trixie wasn't aware that when she had moved, she had completed the circle that they had unconsciously made. She was at the top, with Mart directly across from her, at the bottom. Di and Honey flanked one side, while Brian and Dan finished out the other. When she realized she was wringing her hands together, she forced herself to stop and willed them to stay still at her sides. There wasn't any other way to do it but just tell them, she thought with an inward sigh. She slowly meet and held every set of eyes watching her, saying nothing until she came back to the same blue of her own.

"Are you going to tell us or are we going to spend the rest of the evening admiring you?" Mart broke in, frustrated, irritated, and fed up with the eerie quiet that was only broken by the sounds of crickets somewhere off in the distance.

Trixie shook her head and said, apologetically, "You're right. Sorry, Mart. I was just gathering my thoughts."

Brian jumped in quickly before Mart latched onto that loaded statement and put them back even farther from where they were at. "We're here for you, Trixie. Whatever you have to say to us will be fine." He chose his words carefully, wanting her to know that he had already figured out what she was going to say to them and that he had accepted it.

She met him, saw the understanding, and stifled a small gasp. He already knew. How did he already know? Unable to find out how he had discovered it without questioning him then and there, she nodded once and turned back to the others. "Well, I guess it all started with a letter that I received last week," she began, hedging a little. Once she voiced the words to them, the cut would be final.

"Letter? What letter?" Mart frowned at her, trying to puzzle out what she was attempting to say to them and why it needed some kind of a grand announcement. Try as he might, he couldn't put it together. For once, he had nothing.

"Let her talk, Mart," Di chided him gently. She encouraged Trixie to continue, "Don't worry about him, Trix. Tell us more about this letter. I, for one, would like to know what it said."

Trixie sent Di a grateful look. "As I said, I got a letter in the mail last week. It was about that scholarship I had applied for in the spring. You probably remember it. I was so excited about it when I came across it. It was for criminal justice majors."

Mart remembered the contents of the letter. It came back to him, swiftly, painfully, and in crystal clear clarity. Then he found Brian, hoping he would have an ally to support his resistance. "No!" he responded heatedly, bringing all attention back to him.

Because Trixie had gone still at Mart's response, Dan took care of him by cuffing him lightly on the side of the head. He repeated Di's words again, a little softer but with a great deal more force, "Let her talk, Mart." He pretended not to notice the irate glance his friend threw his way.

A flush worked its way across her face. Both of her brothers knew. One was obviously supportive; the other was obviously not. Breathing in deeply, she quickly tossed out the rest to the other three who were still residing in the dark. "You see, in that letter, I was offered two scholarships. One was a small scholarship. I could use it if I decided to stay with NYU."

"Oh. Damn," Honey murmured under through suddenly white lips, beginning to see where Trixie was leading her. Brian heard her, grabbed her hand for support. Both focused intently on their present co-president.

Trixie didn't hear her. "The other scholarship includes everything. Basically, it's a full ride." Then she paused, took a small, much-needed break. She looked everywhere but at Mart, afraid if she did, she wouldn't be able to finish. Steam was practically coming out of his ears. "It came with a string, though. The only condition is that I need to go to a specific school. I don't even need to keep a certain grade point average to maintain the scholarship, which is probably a good thing. I've never enjoyed schoolwork all that much."

"A condition." Dan didn't like the sound of it. A specific school. "Where are you going?" he asked into the increasingly tense silence. When he felt Mart start to vibrate with fury, he stomped down hard on his foot to keep him from jumping in with another, potentially damaging, comment.

She forced the words out, made them as strong as she could. "California University. It's in San Diego," she added, in case they didn't know.

"As in California?" Big, startled, violet eyes looked at her in confusion. Di ran a hand over her smooth black hair. "But you can't go there, Trixie. You've already been accepted at NYU."

"The scholarship committee took care of it already," Trixie explained hesitatingly. She almost stepped back from the waves of anger emanating off of Mart but she forced herself to stand her ground. He would only view it as a weakness. She wasn't going to give him the chance. She had to show him, all of them, that she was deadly serious. With her head thrown back and her blue eyes daring him to contradict her, she declared, "I've already withdrawn from NYU. I'm going to California instead."

A pure, stunned silence came over the group. Five beloved faces stared back at her. She wouldn't ever be able to forget their expressions. They would be with her through the long, lonely months ahead. Shock, astonishment, even a bit of unreleased and repressed anger at her choice. She drew herself up to her rather non-impressive height and prepared herself for the onslaught to begin.

Honey opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. When only a high-pitched squeak came out, she closed it, counted to ten, and finally was able to say, "California? Trixie, did I hear you correctly? You have to remember I'm recovering from a head injury here. Did you just say that you are going to California instead of NYU?"

Trixie pressed the palms of her hands to her thighs in an effort to keep them still. Telling them was harder, much harder, than she had ever anticipated. It didn't help knowing that Mart was aiming incomprehensible snarling noises in her direction."Yes, Honey. You heard correctly. I've decided not to go to NYU in the fall. Instead, I'll be accepting the full scholarship. I'll be attending California University."

"But you didn't apply there!" Di exclaimed, visibly upset. Her lovely face was set in lines of worry, hurt, and bewilderment. None of the emotions sat well on her. "I'm so confused. How could you be going there, Trixie? It doesn't make any sense to me."

Dan merely leaned back against the porch post, a picture of relaxed elegance. His face was carefully devoid of any expression at all. However, inside was a different matter. He alternated between disbelief, disappointment and, even reluctantly, stunned admiration that she would take on something so bold and unfamiliar. He only had eyes for Trixie and waited for her to answer Di's question.

As much as she wanted to curl up into a ball and roll away, Trixie couldn't do it. They still hadn't heard what she realized they would believe was the worst part yet. "It's all because of the scholarship I received, Di," she answered, doing her best not to look at either of her brothers. Brian was close to her side. Mart, on the other hand, was as far away from her as he could get. "Apparently, it only pertains to CU because the university has the best criminal justice program in the country. The scholarship committee has volunteered to take care of all the minor details, such as my withdrawal from NYU, enrolling me at CU...that type of stuff."

He couldn't keep quiet any longer. If he did, he was afraid he was going to explode. Hands on his hips, he attempted to stare her down. "Minor details? I guess you're taking care of one of those minor details yourself. You couldn't have picked a worse way to tell us, Trixie. What the hell are you thinking?"

Dan pushed himself away from the railing and moved closer to Mart, hoping his nearness would prevent Mart from saying anything else. "Calm down, old boy," he muttered in his friend's ear.

Too upset, too disappointed, and much too hurt, Mart ignored him. Gleefully sharing his anger with anyone who would listen, not giving her a chance to respond, he continued sneeringly, "Come on, Trixie! Admit it. The fact that you want to go to California has nothing to do with a damn scholarship. I was there when you got that stupid letter. You weren't excited about it at all. You didn't have any intentions at all of leaving New York. Then." He crossed his arms over his chest and dared her to tell them the truth. "Why don't you tell us the real reason why you want to leave?"

"It's not because of a stupid scholarship," Honey broke in tearfully. She swallowed down a sob, willing to promise anything to keep her friend from leaving. She shouldered the blame beautifully. "It's because of me. I know it is. Trixie, I don't care. I'll stay with criminal justice. I promise. We'll graduate together, just like we planned. Then we'll open up our agency and everything will be perfect. Just don't, don't, don't move out there. Please. Please don't. Please stay at NYU." She couldn't stand the thought of not having her best friend at the same university as her. Her shaking hands covered her mouth to prevent another sob from coming out.

Di's mouth fell open. She hadn't had any inclination that Honey had changed her career plans. Then she stared at Trixie. She had never expected Trixie to change her college plans, either. What is happening to us? she thought frantically and shook her head in disbelief.

"Oh, Honey. I can't allow you to do that. And it's not because of you. Really, it's not. I didn't decide on going to California because of your decision, if you know what I mean," Trixie prattled on with a small, nervous laugh. "No, that's not the reason. It's a great…"

"Don't you dare use the word opportunity," Mart ordered her fiercely. He wasn't going to let her get away with the real, underlying issue. "Let's call a spade a spade here, Trixie. If it's not because of Honey's choice, then it has to be because of Jim!" He brought the name up without a moment's regret, too upset to think how it would make her feel, especially when all of their friends were around her.

Trixie heard a few shocked gasps at the strength of Mart's attack but had already prepared herself for someone to mention Jim or their fight. Whether she wanted to admit it aloud or not, it had been a huge deciding factor. Proud of the fact that she remained calm and visibly collected, she didn't allow the pain that even the spoken name brought up to show. "It's my choice, Mart," she insisted instead. "The reasoning behind it doesn't matter. Furthermore, I'm not going to talk to you about it. All that matters is that I feel that it is right for me."

Dan placed a well-timed jab to Mart's stomach which momentarily diverted his attention, long enough for Dan to say, "California, Trixie? Only you. You would have to choose a school on the opposite end of the country. How many mysteries do you think you're going to dig up there?" He arched an eyebrow, trying desperately to think of a way to diffuse the situation and hopefully make her laugh.

Brian came around the other side of Mart, hoping his presence would help keep Mart quiet for a little longer. "You'll do well there," he proclaimed, the pride he felt for his sister coming through in his voice. Even though it hurt to do it, he made his mouth smile. "They're lucky to have you, Trixie."

Di couldn't find the strength to stand. It felt like the cushions on the porch swing had swallowed her whole. Although she hadn't been planning on attending the same school with her friends, she had been expecting to see a lot of Trixie during the school year. She cleared her throat, desperately trying to ward off a few tears, and asked, "When do you leave, Trix?"

She wanted to cringe from their response but she stood firm. Again. "Saturday," she replied cautiously.

"Don't you dare say a thing," Dan warned Mart, who looked like he was about ready go ballistic, in a quiet, furious undertone.

"Saturday?" Honey parroted back weakly. She rose from the chair, forced her knees to lock together, and smiled gratefully at the hand Brian rested at the small of her back. The circle began closing in, surrounding Trixie. Maybe she wasn't feeling as well as she thought. She began to fully understand how Alice had felt during her trip through Wonderland. Nothing was making any sense to her any more. "This Saturday? Why so soon?"

Trixie hated the sad, lost quality to Honey's voice. She hadn't expected anyone to be excited about the change in her college plans. She would have had to have been certifiably insane if she had thought anyone would have remotely liked the fact that she was leaving in two short days. "Umm, well, you see, I was offered a job," she explained quickly. When she wanted to stare down at the floorboards painted gray, she forced herself to continue looking at each of them. "It's at a private detective agency that's close to the university. I'll get paid and I'll even get college credit for it, too. They mentioned that the sooner I could come out, the better all around. When they asked if Saturday was acceptable, I obviously said yes."

Brian nearly dropped his head into his hands, finally understanding the reason why their father had seemed so distressed and not that successful at hiding it. Going the entire way across the country to college was bad enough. But leaving before the summer was even close to being over? He nodded his head dumbly, could only say, "I understand."

His famed vocabulary was letting him down. Big time. Mart grumbled out, "Saturday." Gearing up for another round, he saw a small tear trace its way down Di's cheek. The sight sliced through him. He couldn't give into another wave of anger, not when his girlfriend was clearly upset. He sank down onto the cushions besides her and dropped a comforting arm around her but stared at his sister. Even though he didn't express it, the icy blue of his eyes showed her plainly how he was feeling. "You're leaving in two days," he remarked bluntly.

"A little less than that, actually," Trixie answered, her fingers anxiously playing with the green leaves of a hanging plant. "My plane leaves at eleven on Saturday morning."

What the hell were they going to do without her? Dan couldn't find the answer to that one. She was easily the glue that held the Bob-Whites together, the one who helped inspire them and who pushed them to complete actions that were well out of the ordinary. And she was leaving. Voluntarily, and, if he didn't miss his guess, with a little bit of relief, too. Their talk after the picnic rose fresh in his mind. However angry Mart might be, however insensitive it was of him to bring it up, and in front of all of them, he had been correct. Jim was the driving force behind her choice. He had to be. Dan kept all of his inner thoughts to himself. He was the first to walk to her and pulled her into a gentle hug. "We're going to miss you, Trix," he murmured after he stepped back. "We're going to miss you a lot."

Trixie couldn't stop the tears that slipped past her tightly closed eyelids. Whether he approved or not, she didn't know. But at least he had offered a semblance of understanding for her choice. That meant the most to her. "Thanks, Dan. I'll miss you, too."

Spurred on, Honey was next. She jumped out of her seat and tossed her arms around Trixie. While she felt the sobs want to come, she resolutely pushed them back down. There would be time for them later, like the very second after her friends left the house. She pasted a brilliant smile on her face that threatened to tremble off and proclaimed in a voice thick with unshed emotion, "You're lucky, Trixie. Imagine, you're going to a place where it's like summer all year round!"

Di caught on quickly to what Honey was bravely attempting to do. Deciding that she had the same amount of courage, even though it was breaking her heart, she gracefully got out of her seat and joined in the embrace. The three friends held on, making a beautiful triumvirate. "Can you imagine the tan she's going to have, Honey?" she spoke over Trixie's bowed head, her tone just a bit too cheerful. "She's going to be golden brown all year, even in the dead of winter when we're stuck wearing sweaters and thick coats. We're never going to be able to keep up with her."

A few more tears came. Trixie couldn't stop them, not when Honey and Di were being so kind and supportive. She held on even tighter to them, her best friends and the sisters of her heart, and whispered, her voice hoarse, low and clogged, "Thank you."

Despite the fact that it cost her, Di smiled and then tossed her head back. Her eyes took on a defiant glint as she found Mart, who hadn't moved from his spot on the swing. "It's not like it's that far away, either," she began speaking to Trixie, although her words were clearly for Mart. "There are so many ways to keep in touch. It is the twentieth century. Or maybe the twenty-first. Who cares? I can never keep up with it." She lifted her shoulders and then declared, "We've got phone calls and emails. Text messages and chat rooms. Even written letters. Our breaks will match up, too. You're not going to be gone forever, Trix. We can handle it. We can make it work."

Mart heard the words, understood from somewhere deep within that his girlfriend was throwing down a gauntlet for him. He could either accept it and meet the challenge or wallow in the misery that Trixie had unexpectedly pushed him into. Deciding to wallow, he stayed where he was, not ready to get up and offer her congratulations or good wishes on a change that he didn't entirely approve of.

Brian aimed a disappointed glare at his younger brother before he followed the example of the other Bob-Whites. Calmly putting aside his own feelings for the sake of their female co-president, he gently pried her away. Di and Honey kept their arms around each other, needing each other's support. Brian held both of Trixie's hands within his bigger ones. "We never made it to California," he remarked idly, staring warmly down into her face. "You're going to have to tell us what it's like. We're going to need lots of pictures. Maybe we'll even be able to take one of those famous Bob-White trips out to visit you. You can show us around. It'll be a blast."

A few more bothersome tears fell. Her giggle was choked and chock full of bottled-up emotions that were begging to be released. "Yes. Of course. That sounds like a lot of fun." Because she could see the effort it was costing her brother, she embraced him. He didn't tell her, just as the rest of her friends hadn't said it, but she knew he didn't want her to go. He wouldn't stop her, though. He was willing to let her make her own choice.

With a bevy of Bob-Whites surrounding her, he couldn't hold out. Mart groaned and stood up from the swing. A scowl on his face, he took the few steps to get to her. He almost chuckled at the way the rest of them flanked her, as if they wanted to protect her from whatever he was going to say. He ignored them. Keeping his hands in his pockets, he didn't stop until he was in front of his only sister.

Trixie forgot how to breathe. More than well aware of the fact that he wasn't happy with her choice, she waited for him to speak. When Mart only stared at her, she cautiously began, "Hello, Mart."

"Hello, Trixie." Again, words were failing him. He thought he would be lucky if he sounded like a first-grader to the rest of the group around them. Then, he released a long-suffering sigh and grabbed her by the shoulders. He shook her gently, stared at her intently, and demanded, "You've got to promise me you're going to come back here, Trixie. I can't let you go if you don't. Promise."

"Yes, yes. Of course. I promise. I'll always come back for visits. Always, Mart. It's only school," she got out as she heard a collective sigh of relief from the others. Her breath whooshed out of her when Mart pulled her into a forceful hug. This time the tears won. Her soft sobs caused the girls to finally give in, too.

Dan looked at Mart cradling a crying Trixie within his arms, then at Di and Honey who were weeping together, and remarked to no one in particular, "You know, I think the next time someone calls and invite me over for cake, I'm going to have to refuse."

"You and me both." Brian stared at Trixie and Mart. While it was wonderfully touching to see Mart holding onto Trixie while at the same time he was letting her go, he couldn't help but think about the one person who was not present. As hard as it was for the rest of them, her leaving would be a million times worse for him. "How is Jim going to take this?" he questioned quietly.

Dan turned to him, the answer in his serious eyes. He didn't want to be around when Jim found out. "It won't be good, Brian. It won't be good at all."

He sighed and rocked back on his heels. "That's what I thought, Dan. There's no way to get in touch with him, is there?" Feeling emotionally drained and physically exhausted, he remarked, "He's the only one who could convince her to stay."

"He's out camping somewhere in the boondocks, Brian. He doesn't have an ounce of cell service or any possible way of contacting him. He won't have any service at all until he heads back home. Next weekend," Dan was sure to point out with an ugly grimace. "Trixie won't be here when he returns home. She'll already be in California."

"Yeah. I figured that one out." Brian blew out an annoyed breath. What an awful mess. He hoped that he wouldn't have to be the one to break the news to Jim. He couldn't even begin to imagine how their friend would take it. Thinking of the next few days, he rubbed a tired hand over his face. The summer didn't look as promising as it had before. It suddenly seemed bleak and uncertain. And the upcoming school year wasn't as exciting, either. His sister wasn't coming back with him. "I can honestly say that out of the seven of us, I never expected Trixie to be the one to leave."

"I thought I had made a tough choice when I settled on Syracuse last year," Dan murmured, shaking his head sorrowfully. He had weighed the distance from his friends against the benefits of the school, as well as the surprising amount of financial support that he had received. It hadn't taken him too long to make his decision. "It looks like she's got me beat. A plane ride is one hell of a commute."

"If we were giving out an award for picking the school the farthest away, Trixie would most certainly win it." Brian jerked his thumb towards the small group in the center of the room. He remembered when the acceptance letter had arrived. It was a shame it hadn't been lost, torn up or thrown into a blazing inferno. "You know, Dan, we should probably join them. It's going to be a long time before we're all together like this again."

Dan agreed. He followed behind, a little slower than Brian, and thought about the changes that Trixie was instigating within their small circle. Adapt, he thought sarcastically. She was much better at it than he had ever expected her to be. If anything, the rest of them were going to have more difficulty adapting to her departure. How were they going to deal with a Trixie-less Bob-Whites? There didn't seem to be any satisfactory answer.


	29. Chapter 29

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The golden sun was just starting to brighten the sky. Morning dew still glistened off of the blades of the grass. Wisps of thin, billowy mist hovered inches above the ground. With her arms wrapped around her body to ward off more than the chill of the morning air, Honey came to a stop at the edge of the path and covered her mouth with her hand. In close resemblance to a scene in her own driveway only a few short days ago, there were two dark red suitcases waiting to be loaded into Mr. Belden's dark green sedan. She quickly skirted her eyes away from them, not wanting to contemplate what they represented; at least, not for a few more minutes. She caught the sunlight as it glinted off her watch. Glancing at the time, Honey noted that it was almost six o'clock in the morning. On any other day, to any other place, it would be too early for a morning visit. But not today. Today was a day she hadn't been looking forward to. It was Saturday.

With the fur of his tail waving out behind him like a proud flag, Reddy let out three joyful barks and came running around the corner of the house, straight for her. Startled, Honey let out a choked giggle and knelt down to greet the exuberant dog, using the time to collect her thoughts. "What are we going to do without our Trixie?" she murmured to the dog, smiling when he briefly licked her face. She buried her face in the warmth of his fur, much to his delight, and appreciated the softness of the fur against her skin. "It's not going to be the same without her here." She couldn't begin to imagine what it would be like to visit the charming white farmhouse without her best friend residing inside of it.

Lost in thought, with Reddy giving her the biggest doggy grin ever, Honey shivered. It wasn't the advent of a cool early morning breeze that made her shiver. It was the memory of what she had done before walking to the Beldens. Before she had slipped out of her house at the ungodly hour of the crack of dawn, she had snuck into her brother's bedroom, in hopes that she could come up with some way of talking Trixie out of her new plans. It hadn't helped. Nothing inspired her. Instead, her trip had made her feel worse. She had walked over to his dresser, stared at the multitude of pictures Jim had displayed there, and unwittingly discovered the reason why he had never returned her call from Monday or Tuesday. Jim, the man who never forgot anything, who was always prepared, had forgotten to take his cell phone with him when he left for the city. It had been lying on his dresser, plugged in to his charger, obviously charging for the trip, and clearly proved to her how upset he had been before he left. It had sat right next to a certain small black velvet box. She had considered for one wild, fleeting, frantic moment of telling Trixie all about Jim's anniversary intentions but sanity had returned. It wouldn't have been right. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't become involved in such a way, not without making the mess the two had already made potentially even more tangled and terrible. Shoulders slumped, her honey-brown hair curtaining off her face, she contemplated the crisply fresh-cut grass in front of her, unseeing and absolutely the most miserable she could ever remember feeling in her entire life.

Rounding the corner of the house himself, the sight before him brought him to a complete standstill. Honey, on her knees and her head bowed, with an adoring Reddy beaming up at her, tail wagging a mile a minute in pure, total, canine happiness. Brian wasn't surprised to see her, having suspected she would come down to see Trixie off in person. The smile that came to his face was small but it wasn't forced. He couldn't help it; he liked looking at her too much, even at a moment like this. "Hello, Honey," he greeted quietly from behind, having volunteered to take over Bobby's assigned morning chore. He had needed something to keep him busy. The mundane activity had helped occupy him but he hadn't paid too close attention to his job. Since he had given the chickens more than their normal rations, they were extremely well-fed and clucking away merrily off in the distance.

Brought out of her reverie, her head snapped back. Unable to force her lips to curve, Honey glanced at him over her shoulder just as a shaft of light fell through the trees, capturing her hair and bringing out the gold highlights mixing within the soft honey color. She gave Reddy one last pet and rose unsteadily to her feet. The cheerful dog stayed by her side, unwilling to leave. "Good morning, Brian."

With his mouth going dry, Brian put his hands in his pockets, unable to keep his eyes off of her. Honey seemed to have the same problem. They looked at each other for a long minute, unsure what to say, but with the same thought circling through their minds. He nodded towards the house and ended with silence. "I guess I don't have to ask why you are here."

"No. That you don't." Honey shook her head. Because she didn't know what to do with her hands, she fluttered them nervously in front of her. "I couldn't let Trixie leave without saying goodbye again. I know she said that she didn't want a huge fuss made over her departure and that she didn't want a goodbye party or anything like that but…" She gave a feeble little laugh that ended in a long sigh. "All I know is that I wouldn't have been able to stand it if I didn't get a chance to see her before she left. It may be selfish of me. I don't know. But I have to see Trixie before she goes."

Because she couldn't appear to keep her hands still, he reached for them and gently captured them within his own. He was surprised to feel how cold hers were. He squeezed them tight and smiled warmly into her eyes, assuring her without words that it was all right for her to stop by. "You're not the only one who feels that way," he informed her. "You missed Dan by about three minutes. He just left. He's on his way to the police station. He was assigned the morning shift today but he couldn't drive by without stopping in to see Trixie, too." Dan's carefree façade had been expertly applied throughout his short visit. It wasn't until Trixie and the rest of the Beldens were out of sight that he had allowed his true feelings to show. Only Brian had seen the bleak look that had come over his friend's face before he had stepped up into his truck and driven off.

"I'm glad I'm not the only one who went against her wishes. I'm not surprised, though. None of us want Trixie to leave. I can't think of anyone who would like that. Well, except for maybe Mr. Lytell. He really doesn't like her, now more than ever," she added after careful consideration. When Reddy pawed her gently, seeking more attention, she reached down and stroked him absently on his head. Then she fell into step with Brian, one hand still held within his, and Reddy trotting by her side. They walked in relative but comfortable silence and ended up at the front porch steps before they realized it. They stared up at the house, unwilling to move. "It's very quiet around here," Honey noted curiously. Her voice sounded overly loud in the stillness of the morning. She couldn't hear a single sound coming from the normally boisterous house.

"You've spent enough nights over here to know what a Belden morning is typically like," Brian remarked with a ghost of a grin flitting across his face. They were generally loud, crazy, and exuberantly happy. Not today. "Today's been a little different, Honey. Breakfast was a dismal affair. Moms and Dad tried valiantly to keep the conversation going but no one felt much like talking." No one but Bobby had felt much like eating. Even Mart, their resident bottomless pit, had spent the meal pushing around the food on his plate. Most of their mother's delicious French toast, eggs and bacon, one of Trixie's favorite breakfast meals and cooked especially for her, had gone to a ravenous and ecstatic Reddy. What he hadn't eaten had been tossed in the garbage. The normally pristine kitchen itself was still in a bit of a mess. Brian figured that he and Mart would be assigned clean-up detail.

It wasn't too hard to picture the quiet meal in her mind. It sounded exactly the way it should have been. The Beldens were letting go of one of their family members. Her heart, always, tender and sensitive, hurt for them all. Pressing her lips together to keep them from trembling, she dropped her gaze to the ground, hoping to regain some semblance of control of her emotions. The pretty arrangement of multi-colored petunias, pansies and marigolds spilling out near her feet didn't penetrate her preoccupation. "How is Mart holding up?" Honey asked quietly.

Brian shrugged a shoulder. "He's not angry anymore; at least, not like he was the other night at your house when Trixie told us what she was going to do. I wouldn't go so far as to say that he's accepted her choice but he's not going to hold her back." His own sigh was loud and deep. "Mart wants her to be happy. If moving to California and accepting the scholarship is what she wants, then he'll support her, just like the rest of us. She would do it for any of us, too, if situations were reversed."

"I hope it makes her happy," Honey murmured under her breath. She sincerely hoped so. But she knew Trixie well enough to know that it wouldn't make her completely happy. Trixie was too rooted in her family, in her friends, in Sleepyside. She couldn't contemplate how her best friend was going to adjust to the move. With one foot on the porch step, she gestured towards the house and inquired, "Where is she?"

"Inside, in the kitchen. She had to talk to Trixie, too." Brian chuckled at the predictability of his friends. He had known from the start that Trixie wouldn't get her wish. There was simply no way that the Bob-Whites wouldn't have taken the time to wish her farewell before her trip, even if it meant waking up early on a weekend day. Time was dwindling quickly before she would have to make the trip to the airport. "Like you and Dan, Di couldn't let Trixie leave. She knew that Trixie didn't have much time this morning before she would have to leave for the airport since her flight leaves at eleven. Mart told me last night that Di set her alarm clock so that she could talk to Trixie. She called right before I went out to feed the chickens."

"I thought about calling, too," Honey shared hoarsely. Then she turned to gaze up at Brian, her lovely hazel eyes filled with sorrow. "Then I thought it would be much better to see her in person. It's going to be a long time before I'll be able to see her again. When will she be heading out, Brian?"

"Within the next few minutes. Moms and Dad are driving her to the airport." Trixie had quietly requested if her brothers would stay behind, somehow knowing it would be much more difficult to board the plane with her entire family in the airport. Brian ran a hand through his thick hair. As hard as it would have been on her and on all of them, he wished they were all going to the airport. "Mart, Bobby and I aren't going. Trixie asked us to stay behind. She would have had difficult time with all of us there."

"I can imagine," she murmured. "It would have made her cry. I'm going to go inside and find her." Honey started up the steps, not surprised at all that Brian didn't follow her. Because she was considered an extension of their family, she pushed open the screen door without knocking and entered the somber living room. Mart sat, stiff and straight, in the comfortable recliner. Bobby's gangly, growing body took up the sofa. "Good morning," she said softly to the two.

Bobby closed his blurry eyes, still tired and not anywhere near ready to face the day. The magnitude of Trixie's decision hadn't hit him. In his preteen mind, all he knew was that she was going to live in sunny California. Out of all of the residents on Glen Road who knew about her upcoming move, he was the only one who envied her. He was already hard at work concocting plans for his own trips out to visit her. Grumbling incoherently, he turned his head away from the other two and struggled to fall back to sleep.

"'Morning, Honey." Needing someway to release his feelings, Mart scowled at the youngest Belden who did not respond to her greeting and kicked his leg with his foot. Bobby grunted a response but didn't say respond. Shaking his head, Mart answered her unasked question, "She's in the kitchen."

Honey squeezed his shoulder in support as she walked past him. "It'll be okay," she whispered down at Mart, her voice soothing and her touch calming.

He didn't think it would be; that it ever could be. Trixie, the one person he relied on more than he ever cared to admit, was moving. He imagined he could have handled a move to a different school within the state without much difficulty but it was much more challenging to his equilibrium having her move the entire way across the country. It went beyond his comprehension. "Thanks, Honey," he responded politely, attempting to keep his true thoughts to himself behind a carefully smoothed out expression.

"It'll be okay," she told him hoarsely because he didn't fool her. Her smile wasn't as wide as it normally was. Her shoulder felt too weak to carry the burden of having her best friend in the entire world leave her. Trying her best to hide the myriad of emotions that she knew had to be painted vibrantly across her face for all to see, she left the living room and began the long walk back to the kitchen. Her footsteps echoed on the hardwood floors as she closed in on her destination.

Trixie placed the cordless back on its base with the utmost precision, willing her hands not to shake, and dropped her forehead against the wall, needing a few blessed moments to regain her balance. When she heard someone come into the kitchen, she jumped in reflex and whirled about, expecting it to be one of her family members. She gasped when she saw the new arrival and swiftly rushed over to her friend. "Honey!" she exclaimed, wasting no time in enveloping her in a warm, almost desperate, embrace.

Honey accepted the hug and held on tightly even as fresh moisture sprang to her eyes. "Hey, Trixie," she replied lowly. She swiped a finger under each eye, hoped that Trixie didn't catch the movement, and pulled back from her friend. Trying for some levity, she said, her voice rasping with the effort, "I was in the neighborhood this morning and thought I'd see what you were up to."

Trixie swallowed back yet another large lump of emotion that was threatening to come out. The early morning breakfast, planned especially for her with every single Belden in attendance at the unheard-of hour of five-fifteen on a Saturday morning, had been touching and enough to set her dangerously close to losing control. Dan's unexpected visit had nearly broken her. She had spent most of her talk with a crying Di assuring her that everything would be fine and had nearly given into the need to cry herself then. Through it all, she had held strong. However, Honey's bravery in the face of her obvious stress nearly did her in. "I'm glad you did, Honey," she whispered.

Honey swept aside a stray strand of hair, wishing she had taken the time to actual put her hair up this morning but she had been too concerned with getting to Crabapple Farm. "Me, too," she murmured. Her lips trembled with the effort to keep the smile in place. "I'm going to miss you so much, Trix. I hope you have a wonderful time in California."

Trixie wasn't certain if she would use the word 'wonderful' to describe her choice. In the dark of the night, with only the light of the moon and her small nightlight to keep her company, many doubts had surfaced to gleefully jab away at her decision. Trixie had resolutely pushed them aside. She was excited about her move, she kept telling herself, even if it felt like she was leaving a huge chunk of her heart in Sleepyside. A good portion of that heart belonged to the one Bob-White she wouldn't be officially saying good-bye to. "Don't worry, Honey. I'll make certain I have a good time," she said, not truly believing her own words. Having a good time without any of the Bob-Whites beside her seemed an impossible task.

"Hmm. Yes. And we have to remember that you're going to be three hours behind us because of the time zones." Nerves humming, tears threatening, Honey shifted into overdrive. Her words poured out, quick, rapid, and in a chaotic ramble that would have made Trixie laugh on any other day. "I'll need to keep that in mind when I call you. I already know that I'm going to forget it so you'll have to forgive me. You know I'm going to call you, right? You have to know that. Probably every night that you're there. You're going to get sick of me, Trix. And you're going to have to start keeping a list of all of the sights you want to take us to see when we come out there to visit you because you know we'll be coming out, at some point."

Knowing she sounded like a rambling idiot, Honey paused for much-needed breath. She inhaled sharply before the one thing that was uppermost in her mind tumbled out, "And you're going to have to promise me that you're not going to find anyone you like out there half as much as me, okay? No one, Trixie. I'm still going to be your best friend, right, even if you're like a million miles away from New York?"

"Yes. You're always going to be my best friend. But you've got to promise me the same thing." Trixie pressed her forehead against Honey's, swallowing deeply to compose herself. There was a huge amount of pressure sitting on her chest, wanting to choke her. Saying good-bye wasn't easy. It was proving to be nearly impossible. A few tears trickled out despite her best effort to keep them in. "You can't find another best friend at NYU, either."

"That sounds like a done deal." Honey breathed in a ragged breath, let it out slowly, and clasped her hands together when they started to shake. Memories of the first time she had seen Trixie, during that far away summer when she had first moved to Sleepyside, came to mind and made her smile, a bittersweet smile. Trixie had become so much more than a neighbor calling on the new family in the neighborhood. In the span of that spectacular, special and unforgettable summer, she had become a friend, a club-mate, and a sister. "I mean it. I really hope that you love California," she insisted seriously.

"Me, too," Trixie answered without thinking, letting Honey see for the first time that she wasn't as staunch in her choice as she would like everyone to believe she was. Before Honey could call her on it, Helen's voice floated back to them. Trixie turned to the doorway. "Oh. I think it's time."

Honey cleared her throat, resolutely held back the first of what she knew would be many sobs. Determined not to let Trixie see her cry, she ducked her head, tried desperately to calm herself down, and started towards the door. "We should go, then. Come on, Trix."

A white envelope Trixie had slipped earlier onto the catch-all table caught her eyes. As an idea took shape, Trixie took the three necessary steps to pick it up. Although it only contained one piece of paper, it felt heavy in her hands, even heavier on her heart. Should she or shouldn't she? She contemplated what she should do but there really wasn't much of a choice. She would rather have Honey take care of it for her than anyone else, especially one of her brothers. The thought of Mart handing off the envelope made her cringe. It wouldn't be a pretty sight. She wouldn't even consider asking either of her parents. Bobby would probably forget to do it. Brian could be relied upon but he, alas, was a male. Honey was the obvious choice. She had the most tact out of them all. She would know how to do it. Coming to a decision, Trixie grabbed her hand and drew Honey back into the kitchen. "Honey," she whispered quietly, urgently, aware of the fact that they didn't have much time.

With uplifted eyebrows, Honey studied Trixie intently, perplexed. "Your mother is calling for you again," she informed her, just in case Trixie hadn't heard Helen's upraised and more insistent voice for the second time. "As much as I hate to say it, it sounds like it's time for you to go."

Trixie blew out a frustrated breath and then yelled down the hallway, "Don't worry, Moms! I'll be there in a minute!" She tucked back a loose curl, faced Honey and declared seriously, "There's something I need to ask you. It's important."

Intrigued, Honey inquired, "What is it, Trix?"

In a haste, she declared, her words tripping over themselves as they came out of her mouth, "You can say no if you don't want to do it. I won't be upset or anything. I can always ask one of my brothers to do it or mail it myself. I don't want to put you in an odd position. If you don't want to do it, it's fine. No problems. I'll completely understand." It felt like she had an entire fleet of knots in her stomach, all tightening up at the same time. Gathering up her courage, she handed the envelope over to an extremely curious Honey. "You see, it's this." Trixie bit her lip when Honey tentatively accepted the envelope.

Honey frowned down at the object Trixie had practically shoved into her hands. More curious than ever, she turned it over. Three letters stared back at her. Three very familiar letters that made up an extremely important name, to both of them. Immediate comprehension dawned on her while her mouth fell open and her heart broke into two pieces for them. She couldn't picture how Jim was going to react to Trixie's move. "Oh, yes," she mumbled sadly. "I do see."

"Do you?" Trixie had spent a good portion of yet another sleepless night trying to write down her thoughts to Jim. The letter in Honey's hand was take number seven. Six other letters had been started, crumpled up and tossed in the trash before she had felt like she had finally come up with the right words to say to Jim. She didn't know if it would be enough for him. She could only hope that he didn't hate her or despise her once he found out about her decision.

"I do," Honey murmured softly, quietly, understanding more than Trixie realized.

"If you don't want to give it to him, I'll understand. I don't want to make it awkward for you. Don't worry. I can ask Brian or…" and she stumbled over Mart's name. He would be a horrible choice. Moving on hastily, she proclaimed, "Or I can mail it. It's not a big deal if you don't want to do it, Honey, and I don't want to put you in an odd position. There's another way for me to…well, to make certain that he gets it." She couldn't even bring herself to say Jim's name, it hurt too much.

"No. It's not a problem, Trixie. I'll take care of it. I can give it to Jim when he gets home," Honey assured her, missing the way Trixie flinched at the sound of her brother's name. She neatly and competently folded the envelope in half and slipped it into the pocket of her khaki shorts. She wanted to open the envelope to find out what Trixie had written to Jim but, she realized with a tiny, inward fatalistic chuckle, she simply couldn't do that. It had to stay between the two of them unless either one of them ever wanted to clue the rest of the group in, no matter how much she wished to know what the contents were. Sometimes, she reflected, it was just plain awful being considerate.

"Thank you, Honey. It means a lot to me." Trixie gave her another hug. It may not have been the best way to share her thoughts with Jim, but, at the moment, it was the only way. He wouldn't appreciate the effort, though. She wondered if he would read it or if he would let his temper win over and tear it up. She was jolted out of her thoughts when her father called out to her, sounding more impatient and demanding than her mother had the first two times. Spurred on, she moved towards the doorway and paused just long enough to say, "It sounds like it's really time now, Honey. I'd better get going. Thanks so much for coming to see me off."

"It's my pleasure, Trix." Honey didn't make a move to leave the kitchen. She watched Trixie leave and stayed behind to compose herself.

It seemed to take an exceedingly long amount of time to walk down the hallway towards the front of the house where her family was waiting for her. This time was different. She wouldn't be coming back to the house for a long, long time. Even when she came back, she would be more like a visitor, not a permanent member of the household. The idea made her pause. Wiping a shaking hand over her suddenly pale face, she stopped, unsure if she liked the distinction or not. Then, squaring her shoulders, she strode swiftly into the living room.

Her carry-on bag was resting on the floor near the staircase, in the exact same place she had haphazardly thrown her backpack every single day after school, despite her mother's best attempts at trying to cure her of the habit . Pausing in the act of slipping the dark red bag over her shoulder, the memory brought a soft, thoughtful smile to her face. She couldn't argue about the wonderful times she had experienced; here, in her house, with the Bob-Whites, both in Sleepyside and outside of the tiny town. Memory after memory came to her, battering away at her resolve better than any spoken word ever could. Hesitating, she lifted her head and saw her family gathered out on the porch. Their backs were to her. Mart was leaning against the post, with his hands at his side and his head bowed. Bobby was sitting on the porch railing. She couldn't tell but she bet his eyes were closed. Her parents were near each other, at the top of the steps, their hands intertwined and quietly carrying on a hushed conversation. As per his eldest brother job description that he performed exceedingly well, Brian was acting as sentinel, right by the door. He was the first to hear her coming and gallantly opened the screen door for her, a supportive smile on his handsome face.

Trixie walked slowly towards the doorway, knowing, just knowing, that the second she stepped over the threshold, everything was going to change for her. Everything. There wouldn't be any going back. She wouldn't be able to alter her decision. _Relationships will change _echoed throughout her mind. Would they ever, she thought and forced her suddenly wooden feet to move. With a defiant toss of her head that sent her curls off in a riotous dance, she pushed back the thoughts and walked onto the porch. It was quite possibly the hardest choice she had ever made.

Her family converged on her the second she stepped foot on the porch. Awed at the amount of love they gave her, even when she knew that she was more than breaking their hearts, that she was tearing into their souls; Trixie hugged each and every one of them, bravely fighting against a sudden rush of purely sentimental tears and barely winning. "I'm going to miss all of you so much," she managed to get out, her voice tight and choked.

The first to hug her, Brian carefully tucked a curl behind her ear. "We're going to miss you, too, Trixie. The criminal justice program at California University has to live up to its reputation. Otherwise we're all going to insist that you come back here." While he said it in a joking manner, he meant every word of it. If the program wasn't as good as it was professed to be, he wanted her back. Of course, whether the program was good or not didn't matter. He wanted her back no matter what. Then he stepped aside, to let someone else take his spot, and found himself standing right next to an extremely quiet Honey. She gave him a watery smile. Without thinking, needing the comfort she could give him, he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her next to him.

In a burst of energy, Bobby jumped down from the railing and came over, his hands in his pockets, barely managing to hold back a wide yawn. "I don't know what all the fuss is about," he grouched before giving her the pre-teen equivalent of a sentimental sibling hug. It wasn't much of one but it meant more to Trixie than if he had professed his undying wish that she wouldn't leave. "Geesh, Trix. You're only getting a plane and going to school. It's not like we're never going to see you again or anything. Not only that but you get to go to California while the rest of us are stuck here in Sleepyside. Then there's the fact that you always manage to do the most exciting stuff out of us all." He rolled his eyes, about to expand on his views more, when he saw the glare his mother leveled his way. With a long-suffering sigh, he was quick to add, "I'm going to miss you even if you do get to go to one of the coolest states out there, Trixie. Have fun."

Mart intentionally waited to be last, unable to come up with anything to say to her. Words, his best-loved weapon of choice, were failing him, were beyond him, and weren't helping him in the least. As he pulled her into his arms for an easy hug, he whispered softly, for her ears only, "Remember, Trix. You promised to come back. You have to do it. You can't break your promise."

"I remember. I'll visit, Mart. You can count on me," she whispered back, blinking furiously.

_Visit_. It confirmed what he already suspected. His smile wavered for a moment before he stuffed his favorite New York Yankees baseball hat on her head, smashing her curls underneath. Her look of stunned surprise nearly made him chuckle. "You'll have to bring it back to me when you come home," he ordered her gruffly. "It's only yours on loan, you understand, Trixie. I want it back."

Two fingers felt the navy blue brim of the old, beat-up hat reverently. It was a little big, didn't quite fit her head, but she didn't fix it. Unbelievably touched, she realized what he was doing. He wasn't just lending her a memento to remember him by while she was away. He was making it so that she had to come back. "I will," she repeated again, fiercely and truthfully. "I mean it. I'll bring it home to you, Mart."

He held her eyes for one long, intense minute. His lips twisted into what nearly passed for a smile. Then he moved back, motioned for her to go, and let her walk down the porch steps to join their parents. Needing to get rid of some of his restless energy, he went down the steps, without the normal bounce to his steps, but didn't follow her to the car. He stayed at the bottom. Wrapping a hand around the porch post as if it was his lifeline, he watched her with unsmiling eyes as she followed their parents to the car, his mouth set in a straight, thin line. Words of denial rose to his lips but he didn't let them out. They would have been useless.

Trixie could feel their eyes piercing into her back. Taking a deep breath, she stopped before getting into the backseat and slowly turned around to face them. She memorized the moment. Mart, at the bottom of the porch steps, with an inscrutable expression on his face. Bobby, covering up a yawn; bored, tired, and obviously wishing for his bed. Honey, who looked like she was going to burst into tears at any moment, and leaned into Brian, who offered her support and comfort. Trixie could see where the two were headed and inwardly wished them luck, much better luck than she and Jim had possessed. At the thought of Jim, her smile slipped off of her face. Through a mist of tears she was not going to let herself indulge in, not until she was in the privacy of the small apartment that awaited her in San Diego, courtesy of Mr. Miller and his wonderful scholarship committee, she sent them a shaky wave and climbed into the backseat as her father finished loading up her suitcases in the trunk.

Bobby groaned, shook his head when he heard Honey sniffle after Trixie closed her car door, and complained, "Come on, guys. Enough of this. You've got to get it together. It's not like she's not coming back or nothing. I'm tired. I'm going back to bed," he claimed and stomped through the doorway. "Oh, and don't even think of waking me up before lunch," he ordered his brothers.

Honey couldn't tear her attention away from the car as Peter grimly started it up. Both of the Beldens were quiet and somber in the front seat. The car itself seemed to move in ultra-slow motion as he backed it up and drove it down the driveway. She brushed away another tear and smiled courageously at the two silent men. "When…when will she come back?" Then she laughed, a laugh missing its normal warmth and happiness. She pressed an agitated hand against her knee. "My goodness, the car hasn't even hit Glen Road yet and here I am, already waiting for her to come back home."

Brian sank onto the top porch step, bringing an unprotesting Honey down with him. Their shoulders touched; there wasn't much room between them. Her presence gave him more comfort than he had expected, was responsible for the reason why he had survived Trixie's farewell without begging her to stay. He waited until he couldn't see the back of the car anymore before he agreed soberly, "Tell me about."

With a slitted gaze aimed in the direction of the Manor House, Mart grumbled under his breath, "I know he's your brother, Honey. I also know that Trixie doesn't want us to blame him for her choice. She's made that perfectly clear to me, to Brian, to our parents, to the rest of the Bob-Whites, to Bobby and I think I even caught her telling it to Reddy yesterday morning. However, I can't help but wish that Jim Frayne was here right now. It would make my day to be able to take my frustrations out on him." His blue eyes, normally cheerful and playful, frosted over with something akin to rage. There was someone out there for him to blame whether Trixie wanted him to or not.

"Mart." Honey stopped herself, frowned, and sighed in resignation. What she knew wasn't hers to share. Should Jim ever want the Belden brothers to know what he had planned for their anniversary, he would need to tell them himself. "All I'm going to say is go easy on him. Jim's not going to be very happy when he finds out about Trixie," she said, choosing her words carefully. "He's going to be upset, angry and hurt."

Brian recalled his conversation with Dan from the night Trixie had told them about her change in plans. "He's going to be furious," he chimed in. The image of Jim finding out about Trixie made him grit his teeth. He sincerely hoped that it didn't fall on his shoulders to tell Jim where Trixie had decided to go. It wasn't going to be a pretty sight.

Mart shaded his eyes against the bright early morning sun. "At the moment, all I can say is that I don't care how Jim feels about Trixie's choice." His lips tilted up at the corner in a semblance of a grin. "Personally, I hope he takes it hard. I want him to feel like crap."

Honey swallowed a startled, shocked gasp. There wasn't much she could say to change his mind so she agreed with half of what he said, slowly, carefully and praying that Trixie's almost-twin wouldn't carry a grudge against their other co-president for too long. "You have it right, Mart. He's going to take it hard, once he gets over his anger. You can bet on that." It was going to break his heart, of that she had no doubt. A finger absently touched the bruise on her forehead.

Following her motion, Brian noticed for the first time that the bruise on her forehead was moving from ugly green to a brownish-yellow. It wouldn't be too much longer before it faded from sight entirely. It would heal but, as he stared out at the place where the car had disappeared from view, he realized that not all of the wounds caused by last week's events would fade. In fact, knowing his sister and his best friend, there was one that may never heal. They were both too stubborn. Lost in thought, he didn't hear Mart's question.

"What do you think?" When Brian didn't answer him, Mart gave his leg a slight kick to prod him along. "Hello? Anyone home? I asked you a question, Brian."

"Hey," Brian grumbled under his breath, rubbing his shin. He scowled at an unrepentant Mart and briefly wondered if they were going to have to put up with an extra-aggravating Mart for the next while. If that were the case, he sincerely hoped Mart spent a lot of time with Di. She was the only who could curb his irritating ways. "You want to know what I think? I'll be glad to tell you. I never imagined Trixie would run away from something, even a problem she's having with Jim. She's always met every issue and problem head-on, whether she helped create them or if she was thrust into them." He couldn't wrap his logical brain around it. Why on earth had she chosen to leave instead of staying behind to talk things out with Jim?

The smile dropped off his face. Understanding his sister much better than their oldest brother, Mart gave a tiny shake of his head. As much as he hated to admit it, even quietly, in his innermost thoughts, he realized that she had felt like she hadn't been left with any other option. She had felt cornered, trapped, and had desperately needed a way out. That damn letter from the scholarship committee had given it to her. "You're wrong there, Brian," he remarked nonchalantly. "Very wrong."

Bewildered, Honey inclined her head to the side. "What do you mean, Mart?" she questioned inquisitively, toying with a strand of hair.

Mart reached down and picked up a baseball that Bobby had left outside. Tossing it from hand to hand, he said, "She's not running away. In a way, it would be better if she was. We would have been able to convince her to stay if that was the case, especially if all of us ganged up on her. She wouldn't have stood a chance." He wound up, threw the ball across the lawn and watched it dispassionately as it landed with a thud at the outskirts of the woods. Satisfied with the length of his throw, he wiped his hands together and turned back to the interested pair before he explained grimly, "No, it's worse than that."

Brian appreciated the way Honey felt against his side. His hand tightened reflexively on her waist. Unconsciously, he pulled her a little closer to him. She felt so right next to him. With her by his side he had the strength to encourage Mart to explain. "Let's hear what you're thinking, Professor Belden."

Mart almost smiled at Brian's joke but he seriously doubted if there was going to be much of anything that would make him really smile until he became used to Trixie's move. "I'll be delighted to enlighten you," he said with a shadow of his former wit shining through.

"We're all ears," Brian responded dryly. Honey didn't say a thing. She blinked away a fresh set of tears and concentrated on breathing, not wanting to break down in front of the two brothers. Feeling the turmoil within her, Brian ran a calming hand up and down her back. She showed her appreciation by burrowing in closer to him.

"She's not running. What she's doing is far worse. Trixie put a lot of thought and a lot of consideration into it even though we all believe that it was a relatively quick decision. Time-wise, it may have been quick but the thought wasn't, not in her mind." Mart shook his head in disbelief when he recalled where all the Bob-Whites had been a mere week ago; only seven short days ago. Happy in their summer jobs. Content in their place in the world. Secure in their friendships and their relationships. How it had all gone to hell was beyond him. Not one of them would have been able to predict the shambles that one malicious act of Sax Jenner had managed to reduce their group to. Taking in a deep breath, he explained stoically, "She's breaking away from us, Brian."

Honey released another sharp gasp. She covered her mouth, shook her head in pained denial, and rasped out, "Oh, my! No! That can't be true, Mart. It can't be." She vehemently shook her head, absolutely despising Mart's point of view.

"It is, Honey. It's the reason why I got so mad when she told us about her choice the other night. I realized then what it meant." Hands on his hips, Mart restlessly kicked at pebbles on the ground, his face devoid of expression but his eyes, his steely, hopeless eyes, giving him away. "It's not just the fact that Trixie suddenly wanted to change schools because of some damn scholarship or even the fact that she's moving across the country and into a different time zone. It's more than that. Much more." He jerked a shoulder, made a small, gruff sigh, and remembered how she had said a few minutes earlier that she would come back to visit. "Sure, she'll come back for short visits like she promised us and all but she'll only be a visitor. It's not going to be permanent." Ever, he thought forlornly. But he didn't voice it. He figured he would let the others figure that one out for themselves.

Brian digested Mart's thoughts slowly, looking at them from all angles. He hated to admit it but his younger brother was correct. At least if she was running from a problem, there would be a chance to pull her back home; if not now, then sometime in the future. Every single one of them had recognized the strength, the steel, behind her decision. There would be no pulling back. Not for her. As Mart had said, she was beginning the process of breaking away from them. Irrevocably; irreversibly; irrefutably. "Damn," he swore under his breath.


	30. Chapter 30

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Twenty-Nine

When the red light started flashing, Trixie obediently followed orders and buckled her seatbelt. Leaning forward as far as she could, she stared out the window of the plane and back towards the large building. Somewhere within were her parents, watching the plane getting ready to take off. She knew they wouldn't have been able to leave until her plane was up in the air even though they had not been able to follow her to her boarding gate. Thankfully for her, their farewell had been quick, although it hadn't been painless. With the unexpected visitors and phone call at home, as well as a slight traffic jam on the way to the airport, there had only been enough time for her to hug her mother and father, whisper her thanks and her love, and then she had to rush through the airport to get to her gate in time. She had barely made it. The plane had been accepting the very last rows of passengers when she had arrived, flushed, flustered, and out of breath. But the important thing was she had made it, Trixie told herself over and over again. She fanned her fingers out on the small porthole to the outside world, almost as if she could touch her parents, and felt a tear start to trickle its way down her face.

As the pilot's voice boomed out and cheerfully welcomed the passengers aboard, giving them the weather report they would need for the direct flight to San Diego, a surge of panic begin to build within and threatened to overwhelm her. For the first time she was assaulted by doubts. Huge, serious, overpowering doubts. Was she doing the right thing? At that moment, with the plane only mere minutes away from taking off, she couldn't answer it. Just couldn't. Her palms began to sweat. With her eyes going glassy and all the color draining out of her face, leaving her pale and shaken, she tried hard to get her fumbling fingers to unclasp her seatbelt but couldn't get it to work. Taking in a series of deep breaths, Trixie forced herself to calm down and laid her head against the back of her seat, willing her heart rate to return to normal. Short of causing a commotion that would not be appreciated by the other passengers or the competent staff on board, there was nothing she could do about her choice. The plane was moving. The motion of the plane taxiing towards the runway ironically comforted her, as did squeezing her eyes closed. Her hands gripped the hard armrests until her knuckles turned white. When the plane picked up speed and slowly began to lift into the air, she opened her eyes and watched New York fade until it became a tiny, insignificant dot.

Sanity slowly returned to her. Her heart settled into its normal rhythm. She carefully unclenched her hands from the armrest of her seat and flexed them to eradicate some of the stiffness within. There was no longer a heavy pressure on her chest. Mentally chastising herself for nearly breaking down, Trixie decided to keep her mind occupied. Determined to stay busy, she grabbed the carry-on bag that she had thrown in the unoccupied seat next to her, opened it up and searched through it, finally finding what she was looking for: the typed letter that had accompanied her plane ticket.

Her eyes skimmed the information she already knew by heart. In it, Mr. Miller started off by thanking her for accepting the full scholarship. Skipping over the words of praise and gratitude for her choice, she reread the part about the detailed process the scholarship committee had gone through to withdraw her from NYU and enroll her at California University and felt a rush of relief. She hadn't had to lift a solitary finger. As promised, Mr. Miller, or someone who worked for him, had taken care of everything. Then she skipped over the part about the details for her flight information and moved towards the second-to-last paragraph in the letter. "There will be someone to meet you at the airport when you land," she quietly read, unaware that she was saying it aloud or that her eyebrows had furrowed together in concentration. "An employee from the private investigative agency you will be working for will be waiting for you and will take you and your belongings to your apartment." She tapped the word: apartment. It conjured up unexpected images in her mind. She tilted her head to the side and wondered why he hadn't called it her dorm room. Then she lifted an eyebrow, deciding it didn't really matter. A room was a room, no matter where it was, as far as she was concerned. She was going to be grateful to have someplace private for her thoughts. She was also finally going to achieve something she had never been able to at home: solitude.

The last paragraph wasn't as informative as she would have liked it to be. It told her that she would be expected to report to the Anderson, Donnelly, and Christopher Agency at precisely nine o'clock on Monday morning to fill out the necessary paperwork for her summer job, as well as start a brief but necessary orientation process. An address was given, which didn't mean a thing to her since she wasn't familiar with the layout of San Diego in the least, as well as a phone number. Biting her lip, she read the efficiently typed words again, wishing she had more of an inclination about what, exactly, her job would entail. Then she sighed and put her burgeoning curiosity on hold. First, she had to concentrate on getting to California, meeting her contact, and finding her apartment. She would worry about the rest later.

Feeling better and more in control, she slid the letter back into her bag and pulled out an entertainment magazine her mother had slipped in for her to read on the long flight. It was a lovely gesture and showed how much her mother loved her. Moving the magazine to the empty seat next to her, she searched with more excitement through her bag, wondering what else her mother had supplied her with. Sure enough, her mother had also thoughtfully packed her a sandwich, a bottle of water, an apple, and a candy bar. "Thank you, Moms," Trixie murmured gratefully. Still having no appetite whatsoever, she overlooked the food and uncapped the bottle of water. The sip of water felt like heaven on her dry throat.

The light caught a glint of something dark brown inside the bag. Frowning, Trixie capped her bottle and opened the bag further. She pulled out the next present from her mother. A small photo album. Dumbfounded, Trixie stared down at it with a perplexed expression on her face.

"Can I offer you something to eat or drink?" The flight attendant asked cheerfully by her side.

Snapping out of her preoccupation with the album in her trembling hands, Trixie shook her head, unable to speak. She waited with bated breath until the perky flight attendant left to check on the other passengers. Her shaking fingers traced the picture of the golden, smiling sun with long rays on front of the cover. A small post-it note was attached to it, written in her mother's crisp and neat handwriting. "For you, Trixie," it read. She smiled down at it and carefully, reverently, opened the album.

The first page carried a picture of the entire Belden family gathered around her grandmother's prized rose bushes. Staring at it, Trixie realized that it was taken right before they had left for her high school graduation ceremony. "Don't forget us," her mother had scribed on another little note, stuck to the plastic covering over the picture. "How could I ever?" Trixie murmured quietly to herself. She tucked her legs together, got herself as comfortable as she could with the sparse amount of room available to her, and let her eyes room over the picture. The love she felt for her family shone beautifully out of her teary eyes.

The album was like liking through a lense showcasing her life to date. Her mother had included pictures of Trixie in the different stages of her life, starting with the very first picture of her as a newborn, fresh from the womb, in her mother's arms. Of course, she was bright red and crying up a storm. Her mother looked serene and composed, as usual, even after fourteen hours of labor. Trixie grinned. It was their first official picture, her mother had always said. Eagerly, she turned the page. Next there were a smattering of visions of Trixie as a toddler, a preschooler, and standing by her older brothers on the porch steps right before leaving for her first day of kindergarten. The camera caught Mart's hand right as it was reaching up to tug on one of her curls. She had to chuckle. He looked so devilish, as if he was anticipating the cry of agony that was about to spring from her lips. "Some things never change," her mother had written, making Trixie chuckle even more. "They certainly don't," she murmured, studying the picture for an extended length of time.

The next pages carried an array of pictures of the Bob-Whites. Brian. Mart. Dan. Di. And Honey. She was in some of them but not all. She smiled through eyes blurred with tears at the sight of each of her friends. Some photos were recent; others were older. They didn't follow an exact timeline. Her mother must have realized she wouldn't have appreciated that type of precision. She would have known that Trixie would simply have been touched and appreciative that the Bob-Whites were included. Trixie devoured the pictures of her friends and read aloud the note her mother had slipped onto the covering of the one showing her, Di and Honey taking before a fall dance at school, "They love you so much, Trixie. All of them." She tried not think why her mother had underlined 'all'.

There was one person missing from each of her mother's selections. As she neared the end of the small album, Trixie somehow knew who she was going to find staring back at her on the next-to-last page. When her courage failed her, she stopped, inhaled deeply, and, anxiously, cautiously, slowly turned the page. Her heart immediately plummeted to the floor. Because she couldn't look directly at him, she focused on the note instead. "It wouldn't be complete without him," Helen had written on her note. Her handwriting wasn't quite as neat this time around; it wavered, almost apologetically. She had known what the sight of the picture would do to her daughter.

The words blurred in front of her. Steeling herself, Trixie moved her gaze back up to the photograph and exhaled sharply. Good Lord, she thought, but he was handsome. It was a picture of Jim, from one of the picnics that the Beldens loved to host. He was dressed comfortably, as he preferred, standing near the wall of their terrace, and flashing his lopsided grin at the camera. Trixie couldn't tear her eyes away from him, taking everything in, from the sparkle in his green eyes to the well-loved grin to the contentment that seemed to radiate off of him in waves. The album finally fell into her lap. Looking unseeingly out of the window, missing the amazing sight of being up within the fluffy white clouds, she let herself go and remembered it all.

The first time they had met, inside that mess of a mansion. The search for him with Honey, Miss Trask and the adorable trailer. Introducing him to her brothers. The formation of the Bob-Whites. All of the mysteries, all of the good times, and celebrations they had partaken in, together and as a group. God, but the list ran on and on. Trixie wasn't strong enough to hold back any of the memories. They came at her; too swift, too sweet, and too painful to possibly ignore. The later ones seemed to be the worst, when they had paired off and become an official couple. She closed her eyes to block out the memories of the way he had looked at her, fondly and admiring and obviously in love with her, as well as the way it had felt to be held within the tightness of his arms. Her mother was right. The album wouldn't be complete without him. Nothing would be complete without him.

Until she recalled their fights. The misunderstandings. The hard words. The accusation that she didn't trust him. The request for a small break, for time and for distance. They peppered her, sliced into her, and made her harden her resolve. Remembering his words, she didn't hear the need behind his voice for control, that had come from a strong desire within him to preserve their relationship. She only heard the words, only saw the frustrated anger, only felt her own, heartbroken response. Shakily, she turned the page and saw the end of her mother's masterpiece. The seven of them, all standing together, taken in front of their clubhouse a few years earlier, and wearing their Honey-made red jackets. "The Bob-Whites of the Glen," the last note proclaimed. She slammed the book quickly, not wanting to think about the group she was leaving behind or the clubhouse and what had occurred there between her and Jim. The small album felt like it weighed a ton, with the beaming golden sun smiling back at her, almost as if it was mocking her. She supposed it was. Inside, it contained memories of her most wonderful life in Sleepyside, the life she was willingly putting behind her because she was not strong enough to face Jim. She hurriedly put the album back inside the bag and zipped it shut, unable to consider it any longer.

Turning, she pressed her cheek against the tiny window. Little white puffs broke through the bright blue of the sky; seemed to dance right before her eyes. Trixie stared out into the wide expanse of blue, ignored the sight of the ground many miles below her. She didn't want to be grounded; not now. She needed to fly. She refused to feel the stab of guilt caused by her choice to leave. She had to do it, she told herself, more firmly with each passing second. She needed the distance. She needed to take the chance, to make a change, to try something different, on her own. "It would have been impossible to stay there," she mumbled to herself, tracing small circles on the coolness of the window. "To see…" She couldn't even bring herself to say his name.

She didn't take her eyes off the sky for the longest of times, unaware of the other passengers around her. The crying toddler in the back, who was desperate for a distraction from the length of the plane ride, or the harried parents who were doing their best to soothe him, didn't penetrate her thoughts. She didn't see the young couple, obviously in love, who were having trouble keeping their hands off of each other. The businessman who sat in the aisle across from her and spent the length of the plane on his laptop, absorbed in his task and completing some kind of a report, didn't register. She didn't even feel the slight shaking of the plane when it hit a little turbulence before the pilot was able to straighten it out. She was caught in her own world where she prepared herself to break free and become a new, independent Trixie.

The plane closed in on the airport, began its careful descent, and jolted Trixie out of her preoccupation with her thoughts. Everything about her felt different. Biting her bottom lip, Trixie couldn't tell if it was a good difference or a bad difference. She was one of the last of the passengers to collect her things and stood up, awaiting her turn to leave. She shouldered her carry-on, joined the departing line, and disembarked the plane, only barely remembering to thank the flight attendant as she left. After going through the attached tunnel, she entered the hustling, bustling airport and began to follow the signs that would lead her to the baggage claim area, her gait much slower than the others around her.

As she walked through the unfamiliarity terrain, without a single, friendly, beloved face besides her, the magnitude of what she had done finally slammed into her with the force of an earthquake. She was in a different state, taking on a new summer job, and going to a different school. Willingly. And, if the truth was told, with a whole lot of relief. Jostled from behind by a stream of harried and exhausted-looking travelers, she stepped out of the flow of traffic and leaned up against the wall, feeling a sense of hysteria start to overwhelm her. It wasn't as strong as before. The wall felt cold and smooth, helped her regain her balance. "It's okay, it's okay," she murmured quietly to herself, earning a few interested looks from other passer-byers who gave her a wide berth. "You can do it, Belden. You can." It wasn't so much that she could do it. She didn't have a choice. She had to do it.

When the area had cleared out of people, with only a few stragglers around and in front of her, Trixie pushed herself off of the wall, a determined expression on her face. She continued in the direction of the baggage claim. Her walk didn't exude a lot of confidence but she did have her strength back. It wasn't too long before she had claimed her bags. They were one of the last ones left. With her suitcases at her feet and her carry-on bag on her shoulder, she glanced around the large room, frowning slightly, looking for the person who was supposed to meet her. Grabbing the handles of her suitcases with each hand, she awkwardly wheeled them over to the side and glanced over the faces of the few people present. No one seemed to be coming forward or even aware that she existed. For one wild, inexplicable moment, she wondered if she had made a terrible, terrible mistake. Then she heard her name.

"Are you Beatrix Belden?" a quiet voice asked from behind.

Trixie whirled around, stunned that she had missed hearing someone approach her. "Yeah…Yes," she stammered out, blushing slightly and feeling completely out of her element. Sucking in a deep breath, she exhaled it slowly and straightened her athletic shoulders. "Yes. I am. But I'm not Beatrix. It's Trixie," she responded strongly. She looked expectantly at the woman in front of her, noticing the wave of dark brown hair that skimmed just below her shoulders. She was tall, taller than Trixie, and dressed in a light green cotton dress with matching heels. Her eyes were hidden behind thin, trendy sunglasses. Trixie couldn't get a read on them but the smile on her face was warm, friendly, and made her start to relax. She guessed her to be in her mid-twenties.

She arched an eyebrow at the inquisitive look Trixie gave her, filing away the fact that one of the things they were going to need to help her with was to keep her emotions and thoughts hidden. Their newest recruit was too open and too easy to read. It was a change that would have to occur. Aware that Trixie wanted to get a look at her eyes, she put her sunglasses on the top of her head and nodded at her charge. Then she offered a hand and noticed that Trixie's return grip was firm. "I'm here to meet you and take you to your apartment. I'm certain everything is a little overwhelming for you right now."

"Just a little," Trixie breathed out under her breath. She couldn't make her lips curve up into her normal smile. There was a swarm of butterflies in her stomach, begging to be released. She hoped that she masked her nervousness, and, needing something to do, reached down for the handle on one of her suitcases.

"I'll take the other for you." She stepped up, grabbed the handle, and pointed in the opposite direction. "Let's head this way. It'll take us to the parking lot. We'll get you loaded up and on your way to your apartment in no time at all," she spoke confidently and started to walk briskly away. She was delighted to note that Trixie didn't waste a second before falling into step behind her.

Trixie bit her lip and then dredged up the courage to ask, "What's your name?"

She stopped, smiled at her, and noted that it hadn't taken Trixie overly long to ask. Another good sign. She had only spent a few minutes with their newest recruit and she had already decided that she liked her. Belden would be a good addition. "Jocelyn," she answered warmly. "I'm Jocelyn Shields. And, before you ask that next question I know is about ready to come out, I'll tell you that I work for ADC."

Trixie filed away the name and correctly identified the initials as her new place of work. "I'm supposed to report there on Monday," she shared as they picked up the pace and carefully wound their way through the growing throng of weary travelers who had exited another airplane a few minutes earlier.

"Yes. At nine o'clock," Jocelyn responded back with a small laugh at Trixie's look of surprise. "I know. It's also part of my job to get you there on time." She winked, her words more telling than Trixie realized. "You don't have to worry about anything, Trixie. I'm here to help you."

"That's very nice of you." Trixie sidestepped a young man chatting away on his cell phone and had to bite back a sigh when she immediately noted that he had red hair. Rolling her eyes at herself, and at her own foolishness, she picked up the pace and caught up to Jocelyn. "Since you know where I'm going to be staying, can you tell me a little bit about it?"

"Your apartment is in a very nice building. In fact, it's so nice that I happen to live there, too," she laughed easily.

"Wait. Do you go to California University, too?" Trixie asked, obviously puzzled, and thinking that her guesstimate on Jocelyn's age had to be wrong. It also didn't make sense; not if she was an employee for the agency.

"No. Didn't they tell you?" Jocelyn wondered aloud and then shook her head. Her smooth hair swung with the motion. Her explanation had been carefully planned out the night before. Without hesitating, she started the necessary lie, "There was a slight problem with your housing arrangements. Because you were a bit of a late addition to the school, there weren't any rooms left for you. Mr. Miller was able to pull a few strings and got you special permission to live off campus, in your own apartment. They usually don't let freshmen live off campus but the university made an exception for you. The building you're going to be living in is very close to the campus so you won't have any trouble making it to your classes or anything like that," she hastened to assure her. "You just won't have to put up with a roommate or noisy hallmates or anything like that."

"That sounds good," Trixie replied, accepting the explanation at face value, and felt immensely relieved. Having a whole apartment to herself sounded like a dream come true. She hadn't expected the luxury and briefly thought that the rest of the Bob-Whites were going to be jealous when she told them. She had never had her own place before. She didn't see the spark of amusement in Jocelyn's eyes.

Jocelyn had to suppress the urge to laugh. Belden was a little too trusting, also, she thought to herself. That came with the naiveté she suspected was within Trixie but it wasn't a detriment. She would overcome it, too, before her training was officially over. Moving Trixie into her apartment building had been extremely easy. She would be under close surveillance as well as separated from the rest of the college community. Trixie was isolated without appearing to be so. It all seemed innocent instead of carefully and thoughtfully planned out. She breezed through the automatic doors first and pointed off in the direction of the parking lot. "We're over there, in lot G, Trixie. Let's find my car." They walked in comfortable silence to her fiery red Passat in silence.

"Nice car," Trixie commented after depositing her suitcase in the trunk. The early evening sun felt warm on skin. She stared up at the crystal blue sky and breathed in deeply, finding the air refreshing, and truly smiled for the first time since she had set foot on California territory.

Jocelyn grinned back at her. While she loved her car, it spent most of its time safely parked in a parking garage. There was never any indication on how long she would be away when a new mission was assigned to her. She was stunned to discover that she was looking forward to the down time of helping to mentor a new recruit. It was something she had never done before. "It gets me around. You drive, right?"

Trixie settled herself in the dark gray front seat. The car was meticulously clean. She couldn't spot an ounce of dust or dirt in the interior. "Yeah. My brother taught me on his old jalopy a few months before it finally died. He, ah, he always teased me about being the one who killed it." Her eyebrows snapped together at the memory, as well as how her brother came to possess the jalopy in the first place. Again she fumbled with a seatbelt. It took an exceedingly large amount of time to click it closed. Sighing, Trixie stared out the window and watched the passing scenery of San Diego.

Jocelyn heard the unspoken emotion in Trixie's voice, realized the hurt and the pain that the young woman was trying desperately to hide. Homesickness. Another hurdle she would have to overcome but Jocelyn was confident she would be able to do it. There was no hurry, no rush. Trixie had all the time she needed to get herself acclimated to the new life she wasn't even completely aware of. As it was Jocelyn's current job to assist her, she would do it to the best of her ability. She wasn't considered one of the top agents in their agency for nothing.

She drove through the busy streets of San Diego for a while, letting the quiet exist between them. When they neared the large, sprawling campus, Jocelyn tapped her on the shoulder and excitedly pointed it out to Trixie. "Right over there is CU, Trixie. It's on the outskirts of the city and it takes up a good bit of room out here. There are lots of different buildings that you'll need to get familiar with before the fall semester starts up. I'll be glad to show you around anytime, if you would like me to."

Interested, Trixie studied the large, impressive stone buildings as they drove past. Small clusters of students were gathered on the grass, talking and laughing, while others strolled along the sidewalks with backpacks slung over their shoulders. Summer students, she decided after a moment. "Did you go there?" she inquired after she decided that she liked her first impression of her university.

"Yes," Jocelyn lied again. She hadn't but it had been part of her job to learn the ins and outs of the university, as well as to find out the locations of the buildings. She had also spent an entire weekend learning the names of the professors and their areas of expertise. She figured she had as good of a working knowledge of the CU as any student on the campus, if not better since she took her mission very seriously. "A few years ago. You'll be very happy with your choice, Trixie. It's got a great criminal justice program."

"That's what I heard." Trixie watched as they turned onto a quiet street not too far from the campus and then into a small parking lot right before a charming, three-level brick apartment building. Her curiosity was tweaked again. She leaned forward in her seat. "Is this…"

"Home?" Jocelyn finished for her, using the word intentionally, wanting Trixie to start viewing San Diego as her home instead of New York. The easier the break, the better. "It certainly is." After pulling her car into a marked parking space, she reached into her purse, pulled out a set of keys on a plain silver key ring and offered them to Trixie with a smile. "These are yours. You are apartment 3-B. Third floor. Top floor, too. Sorry about that. I hope you don't mind walking up three flights of stairs."

"No, I won't mind. Not at all." Trixie accepted the keys with a sense of amazement. It was finally beginning to feel real to her. She stepped out of the car, felt a breeze flow over here, and truly believed for the first time that she wasn't in New York anymore. Clearing her throat, she declared, "I can't wait to see it."

"It came fully furnished, too," Jocelyn shared, avoiding mentioning the fact that it had also fallen to her to make certain that it contained the necessary furniture. It had been surprisingly fun to shop for the small apartment. She was also pleased that she had pegged her charge right when it came to burying the furniture. Nothing frilly or silly for her. Competent, useful, and plain. "You shouldn't have to worry about buying much for it. I wasn't certain what you like to eat but I put a few things in your refrigerator, too. You know, just some things to tide you over for the next few days. You shouldn't have to worry about running out to the grocery store right now. Although there is a very nice store right around the corner. It's where I usually do my shopping."

Shopping hadn't occurred to her. As long as she didn't have to shop at Mr. Lytell's country store, she was satisfied. She faced the helpful young lady and gave her a grateful look. "You've made my move so easy for me. Thank you, Jocelyn. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it," she said meaningfully.

Jocelyn waved away her thanks, opened up the trunk and took out the suitcases. "Let's get you unpacked. You'll have the rest of the day today and all day tomorrow to get yourself situated. Monday, of course, is your first day at work." When they reached the steps to the apartment building, she stopped and pointed in the opposite direction. "I didn't have a chance to show you the ocean on our drive over here. It's right over there. It's a wonderful place to go to think or to experience. I always find it soothing when I visit the beach."

Soothing. She could use some soothing, both in her heart and in her soul. Trixie filed away the information for later use. "Thanks," she murmured quietly and then followed her up the trio of concrete steps and into the lobby. The front room was small and deserted. A wall of metal mailboxes was off to the side. Trixie was surprised to see her name printed neatly on one of them. "I'm looking forward to working at the agency. I've wanted to be a private detective for as long as I can remember. It's going to be amazing to work with real professionals, just like you."

"It is a lot of fun. However, you'll have to remember that you are an intern. No high profile cases for you!" Jocelyn joked as they began the climb up to the third floor. "You'll be stuck with the boring stuff but it will give you quite an education, too. You may even end up learning more there than you would at the university," she added, her dark brown eyes gleaming with the unspoken truth of her statement.

"That's generally the way it is, isn't it? You can't beat true-to-life experiences." After reaching the top floor, Trixie wheeled the suitcase over to the door marked 3-B. She uncertainly stood in front of it, finding it hard to believe that it was her door. Remembering that the keys that were in her pocket, she fished them out, slid them into the lock with more confidence than she felt, and opened the door.

Her first look at the apartment was that it was, indeed, small. There was a loveseat with a matching chair. A table held a television set, for which she was extremely grateful. When she swung her head around, she saw there was a counter dividing the living room and the kitchen. There was a small hallway that led to the back, most likely to her bedroom and a bathroom. The walls were painted a charming cream while the floors were hardwood, just like at home. A few small rugs had been tossed down. Nothing dotted the walls yet. Cheerful white curtains with small yellow daisies embroidered on them adorned the trio of windows that faced the road. "It's lovely," Trixie decided after a moment, meaning it. It was. Most importantly, it was hers.

"Small but very nice," Jocelyn agreed whole-heartedly. "I hope you like it. I'm downstairs, on the second floor. 2-A, should you ever need me," she shared. She pointed down the slim hallway. "You've probably figured out that your bedroom is down there. There's also a second room. It's about the size of a closet but you could use it for a little study nook if you wanted to. The scholarship committee provided you with a laptop and printer. It's all set up for you on a computer desk in that little room." She didn't add that she could also hack into said computer at anytime, knowing that Trixie wouldn't appreciate the knowledge. It would probably send her scurrying back to New York in, well, in a New York minute. "And you don't have to worry about rent or anything like that. It's all included in your scholarship. Really, the only bills you'll have to take care of are your phone bill and food."

"I'm going to stick with my cell phone," Trixie murmured while she processed the information. Her father had upped the plan so that she could call across the country at any time and had also said that he would cover the cost of it for her. He wanted to make certain that she could get in contact with them at any time.

"Good." Jocelyn noticed that Trixie didn't offer to share the phone number with her yet. Deciding it was time to step back and let their newest one out on her own, she slipped back through the open front door. "Well, I'm going to head downstairs to my place. I've got a few things to do. Please, feel free to stop in anytime you want, Trixie. 2-A. I'll be in contact with you sometime tomorrow about Monday, all right?"

"Thanks again," she murmured softly before Jocelyn closed the door. She stood in the middle of the small living room as the silence came over her. Other than the slight sounds that the not-nearly-sound-proof walls allowed her to hear from the neighbors around her, there was nothing else. Nothing directed to her; no one talking to her or around her; nothing but silence. No joyful Reddy barking. No irritating Mart teasing. No sounds of Bobby groaning as he was asked to complete a chore he did not want to do. No Brian asking her quietly about her day. And no Moms or Dad.

Thinking about her family, she took out her cell phone and called home. Her stomach knotted with anticipation while the phone rang on the other end. One ring; two rings; three rings; four. She sighed with disappointment when her mother's cheerful voice came on, announcing that the Belden family was not home. Frowning, she wondered where they were and then shrugged. Hoping her voice sounded normal, she left a quick message, letting them know that she had made it to San Diego safe and sound and that she would call them back soon.

Feeling a little odd, a little disoriented, and a lot scared, Trixie sprinted the few steps towards the windows and caught the sight that Jocelyn had pointed out to her. The ocean. The Pacific Ocean. She didn't waste another minute. Stuffing her cell phone in her back pocket, she grabbed her new keys and quickly locked her front door behind her. Her feet pounded as she ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time, the exact same way she did at Crabapple Farm, and hurried out onto the street. Glancing off in the direction of the beach, she impatiently waited her turn to cross it and was soon striding swiftly in the direction of the ocean.

It took about fifteen minutes of brisk walking along the sidewalks to make it to the beach. Since there were only a few precious hours of light left and the sun was riding low above the horizon, a golden ball setting out strands of pearly peach and rose, the beach was relatively quiet. Trixie toed off her sandals and felt the warmth of the sand under her bare feet. It felt incredible, soothed her better than anything she had ever thought possible. Her nose crinkled with amazement at the feeling. She even laughed. She inched her way forward until she stood at the edge where the water of the Pacific Ocean met the earth. The water sprayed her legs, covered her toes, and felt cool, refreshing, and made her smile a true smile. She didn't move, let the water come to her, and allowed herself to think about her move, her choice, her life. For the first time she truly believed that she was going to be all right.


	31. Chapter 31

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Thirty

As he made the familiar turn onto Glen Road, Jim flicked off the radio, abruptly ending the wailing tones of a younger, much less raspy-sounding Steven Tyler as he implored his listeners to dream on, and became lost in thought. He glanced down at the spot on his console where his cell phone should be resting but wasn't and released a long, low, disgruntled sigh. It hadn't taken him long to realize that he had forgotten the necessary traveling item on his dresser in his hurry to leave nearly two weeks ago. Not that it had made much of a difference, he realized with a fatalistic shrug. He wouldn't have been able to use it for a good part of his time away from Sleepyside, although it still bothered him that he had forgotten it. Especially now. If he had remembered his cell, he would have been able to call ahead, to let Trixie know that he was on his way home, and that he couldn't wait to see her and talk to her. There was a lot that need to be settled between them. He, for one, was more than ready to start cleaning up the muddled mess they had made before his trip.

Trixie. His hands gripped the steering wheel, started to sweat, while his heart rate accelerated in anticipation of her reaction to his return home. Normally she greeted him with a loud cry of surprise, flew into his arms, and let him whirl her around before they shared a welcome home kiss. For the first time ever he wasn't certain what to expect when they saw each other for the first time. He remembered the past two weeks with a small shudder. They had been two of the most miserable weeks of his life at that damn camp where he had forced the enthusiasm out of him for all of the planned, outdoor activities when all he had wanted to do was pack up, go home and talk things out with Trixie. He hadn't enjoyed one minute of it, not when his thoughts had constantly centered around a blonde, blue-eyed woman residing at home.

So much had become clearer to him during the time that he had been away. While he had merely gone through the motions of being a camp counselor, he had realized that she had made many good points during their arguments. He had been overprotective of her. He shouldn't have tried to keep her away from his interview with Sergeant Molinson after the scene in the store. He did respect her. It pained him more than he had ever thought possible that she didn't understand how much. Most importantly of all, he needed her. There was simply no way he could survive another set of time like he had just gone through, filled with the uncertainty, the remembered words and the pain that had existed between them. He had to see her, to put things to right. Jim shook his head, hoped that the time apart had been good for at least one thing. The monumental stupidity of suggesting a short break from each other had made him cringe more than once over the past two weeks. He clenched his teeth and hoped that she wasn't too mad at him. Even if she was still angry at him, he could work his way around it, he figured with a cocky grin. She loved him too much not to let a few misunderstandings and their combined tempers get in their way, just the same way as he loved her.

When he drove past Mr. Lytell's country store, he sent a withering glance at it, and was secretly delighted to note that there wasn't a single car in the small parking lot. He was another person who had signed up for the boycott and sincerely hoped that the rest of Glen Road agreed with him. Mr. Lytell did not deserve to have any customers as far as he was concerned. Then he forgot all about the crotchety old man and his store. The familiar scenery rolled by. In a few short minutes he found himself at the bottom of the hill. His blinker flicked on and he expertly aimed his Jeep up the long, steep driveway that took him to Manor House. After parking in his normal spot, he was surprised, and extremely relieved, to note that none of the family cars were in sight. That suited him fine. He didn't want to spend a lot of time at home and definitely didn't want to have to converse with anyone. If all went according to his plan, the first person he would talk to was Trixie. He had to get down to Crabapple Farm as soon as he could.

With a steely determination urging him on, he grabbed his bag and one suitcase and carried it over to the front porch. After laying them by the side of the front door, he hurried back for the second suitcase and repeated the same action. For the first time he could ever remember, he voluntarily left a job unfinished and raced down the front steps without a second thought. He loped across the front lawn, his long legs eating up the grass, and exceedingly eager to talk to Trixie and get everything settled between them.

He moved with an energy that had been missing during his internship. His advisor had even commented more than once on his surprising change in attitude during the camping expedition. Jim had shrugged it off and hadn't offered his advisor an explanation. A private man, he wasn't used to airing his relationship issues out in the open, and certainly not to someone whom he only viewed as a mere acquaintance. And he had managed to stick out his commitment to the camp, although he seriously doubted if he would ever want to sign up for the internship again. He wasn't looking forward to the second trip with another set of campers.

Jim pushed aside his thoughts of the camping trip that wouldn't end and was already to start up again in a week. Instead, he started to think about Trixie and what he needed to say to her. Words and phrases were jumbled around in his mind. There was only one thought uppermost in his mind. He needed to tell her how much he loved her. Everything else would fall into place after that. Imagining her reaction when she saw him for the first time, a smile started to tilt his lips up. He even picked up the pace as the path brought him close to the edge of the Belden's old orchard. Coming to a halt, he caught a movement through the many trees and wondered who it was. Thinking there was a good chance that it could be Trixie, he called out in greeting. When the figure paused, Jim waved and then swiftly closed the distance between them. He ignored a small shaft of disappointment. It definitely wasn't his girlfriend. "Hi, Mr. Belden," he called out jovially after he identified the person.

Dressed in an old pair of blue jeans that were fraying at the seams and a grubby white T-shirt with holes in it, Peter Belden did not resemble the banker that he was. The fact that he had an old double-sided ax in his hand made him appear…menacing. Jim shook his head when he thought that, to clear it, to change it, to wonder where that absurd thought had come from. Peter Belden? Menacing? The two were not synonymous at all. Jim kept the welcoming smile on his face and repeated again, "Hi, Mr. Belden. It's good to see you. I just got back from camp."

Peter allowed one edge of his mouth to curl up but not in greeting. Oh, no. Definitely not in welcome. He eyed his trusty ax first, then eyed Jim for a long pause of a moment, and even allowed himself one bright, terrible daydream to contemplate what he would like to do with the ax and the person in front of him. His smile grew, degree by slow degree, more wicked and delighted with each passing second, until he nodded, satisfied with the image. It wouldn't be right but it would make him feel much, much better, he thought before quietly admitting he couldn't live out his fantasy. Too much blood. Too much gore. And he seriously doubted if his family would want to visit him in prison. Stuck with reality, he let the image fade away and stared back at Jim; unfriendly and hostile.

Taken aback, Jim puzzled over the odd expression on Trixie's father's face. Mr. Belden hadn't said a word back, had only continued to stare at him with an inscrutable expression on his face and a smile that made Jim want to shiver. More bewildered and baffled, he cleared his throat and tried again, saying in as friendly of a voice as he could muster before the silent man, "I'm happy to be home. I can't believe how much I missed Sleepyside and everyone here. The two weeks went by slower than I had thought that they would. I didn't find the camp as exciting as I thought it would be." He knew he was rambling but he couldn't stop himself, not when Peter wasn't offering anything to him.

Peter rested the head of the ax on the ground and drummed his free fingers against his thigh. It was the one thing he was willing to agree with Jim on. The past two weeks had gone by excruciatingly slow but not for the same reason Jim had mentioned. First he had to deal with Trixie's unexpected announcement about her decision to switch colleges and move to California. Then he had to go through the farewells, which had practically broken his heart. He still hadn't recovered from it. It helped a little that Trixie seemed content with her choice when she called them, nearly every night. Last, he had survived a week in his own house where his oldest son had been oddly quiet, his middle son seemed hell-bent on aggravating every single person he came across, and his youngest had taken to complaining that the normally loud and friendly house felt more like a funeral parlor than anything else. The worst part was his wife. Helen had cried herself to sleep every single night, wishing for their little girl to be sleeping in her own bed in their home and not in some damn apartment in San Diego. It broke his heart. And he attributed it all to the young man standing in front of him. "Jim," he finally managed to get out and carefully lifted the ax. With one hand on the handle and the other one close to the head of the ax, he continued to stare the younger man down.

Jim nearly took a step back when Peter ran a finger along the sharpened silver blade but he held his ground. Menacing. Again. His forehead wrinkled with bafflement, not liking the undercurrents he felt from Peter Belden at all. Clearing his throat, he asked, since he had to say something or suffocate on the silence, "What are you using the ax for?"

"I'm taking care of some of the damage from that storm two weeks ago," Peter answered meaningfully while his eyes lit up with dark delight as new images came to his mind. Damage. He would love to take care of the cause of the damage made by the young man in front of him. Although Trixie had sworn up and down that it wasn't wholly Jim's fault, that she had more than contributed to her decision to leave, Peter hadn't bought it. He wouldn't let himself see beyond the fact that his princess had left. He was more than willing to hold Jim completely responsible for his daughter's choice. He tapped the long wooden handle of the ax against the palm of his hand, his dark, dark eyes never leaving the redhead's face.

This time Jim took a small, cautious step back. He didn't care if it was cowardly. He was smart enough to know when he needed to utilize a plan for self-preservation. Something was off about Trixie's father. Imagining that he had more than an inkling about the problems the two of them had before he left, Jim attempted to shift the conversation into a different direction and pointed off in the direction of the orchard. "Did you lose a lot of trees?" he inquired lowly.

"A few trees," Peter answered curtly, the same way he would talk to a difficult customer, and without an outward sign of friendliness from him. Business-like only. "A lot of branches either snapped or broke off. We've been busy here so I haven't taken the time to clean it up until today. We're starting the clean-up now."

"Is…ah, is Brian and Mart out there with you?" He meant to say Trixie instead but he couldn't bring up her name, not when her father was staring at him with that odd look that he couldn't, and didn't want to, decipher.

"Only Bobby," Peter responded in that same short tone he had never used in Jim's presence before. "He's waiting for me. Brian and Mart are up at the house if you want to see them. They're planning on coming out to help in a few minutes. You would probably have better luck with Brian, though. I'd ask for him instead of Mart." With those ominous words, he turned his back to Jim and started off into the orchard without uttering a word of farewell.

Jim gaped after him, shocked by Peter's blatant rudeness and wondered at the core of it. What had he meant? He should ask for Brian? He'd have better luck with him instead of Mart? Why? More confused than ever, he moved a little slower, a little less sure of himself, back down the path that led to the house in the hollow. He stopped once to stare back in the direction Trixie's father had disappeared into but he couldn't see him. He could hear him, though. The sound of ax hitting wood penetrated the stillness, made him flinch in reflex. There wasn't any doubt about it. Peter Belden could certainly swing an ax.

More apprehensive now than excited, he made his way into the back yard, less self-assured and confident, and then slowly up to the back porch of the house. Even though his trips had to number in the thousands to the farmhouse since he had stepped foot in Sleepyside, this time felt much different, almost foreboding. Attempting to shrug off the unfamiliar feeling, especially at a place he had always felt welcome and comfortable at, he decided to try the kitchen first. It seemed like the best place to find someone in the house. Hoping that the next Belden he ran into would be Trixie, even if she wasn't much friendlier than her father, he raised his fist and rapped loudly on the screen door.

Curious blue eyes came immediately into view. But they were not feminine blue ones. They were definitely not welcoming ones. At all. With his appetite receding, Mart dropped the unopened bag of chips onto the kitchen table, meet the green eyes staring back at him through the minuscule patches of the screen, and smiled, a low, slow, cunning smile that had never graced his face before. "Why, look at that. It's Jim Frayne," Mart called out with a forced gaiety to his voice and straightened himself to his full height.

Out in the hallway, Brian heard the words and didn't waste a second before he sprinted the rest of the way into the kitchen. He took one look at Mart, saw a confused Jim on the threshold, and let out a vicious curse word that had Jim's eyes popping open even wider. He knew what he had to do. Momentarily disregarding Jim, he got in front of Mart and started to push him out of the room. "Get out of here, Mart. Let me do it," he whispered urgently, swearing inwardly because it appeared to be falling on his shoulders, exactly as he had hoped it wouldn't. But there was no way he was going to let Mart tell Jim, not without putting up one hell of a fight beforehand.

Unwilling to capitulate, Mart dug in his heels and pushed back. "But I'd love to be the one," he hissed under his breath, his face flushing with anticipation.

Brian gave him an unexpected shove that had Mart tumbling through the open doorway, out into the deserted hallway. "Don't!" he ordered a furious Mart. Using the few precious seconds available to him, he reached behind and slammed the kitchen door shut. He even locked it to keep Mart from coming back in. When he leaned against it, he let out a small sigh of relief, and ignored the loud protest from behind.

Jim stared, dumbfounded, at the scene between the normally congenial brothers. Very rarely did Brian ever throw his strength about. He couldn't ever remember Mart being the recipient of it. That ominous sensation started to grow and flourish but he resolutely ignored it, unable to put his finger on why the Belden men were acting in such unusual and uncharacteristic ways. First Peter Belden with his ax, then Mart with his unfriendly welcome and now Brian, swearing and shoving his younger brother around. It didn't make much sense to him. He masked his concern the best that he could and inquired, "I hesitate to ask this, Brian, just in case you'll try to throw me out of the room, too, but can I come in?"

Brian groaned when he heard a series of thumps on the opposite side of the closed door. Relieved when silence followed, he nodded his head. "Yeah. Come on in, Jim. I won't toss you out. I promise."

Jim opened the screen door and entered the kitchen with more confidence than he felt, incorrectly attributing his odd welcome to the fact that the Beldens must have known more than a little something about their fights. It was the only logical explanation. "It's been an interesting visit to your house so far," he said, trying to bring some humor into the room and failing utterly. He hooked his thumb in the direction of the orchard. "I also ran into your father outside. He wasn't his normal self, either. He, ah, he had an ax with him."

Brian snapped his head back, well aware of what his father would have liked to do to Jim with said ax. His dark eyes, so like his father's, took on a pained expression. "He's cutting up some of the trees that were hurt in that bad storm the Sunday Honey came home from the hospital," he explained haltingly, wondering what their chance meeting had been like. It couldn't have been good but he decided to look on the positive side. At least Jim was still alive, unhurt and in one living, breathing piece.

"He told me that Bobby was helping him and that you and Mart were going to join them soon," Jim added. He came further into the comfortable kitchen and ended up near the counter. Absently picking up the salt shaker, he moved it from hand to hand, needing something to do to help him get rid of his nervous energy, before setting it back down on the immaculate counter. Thinking about the elder Belden, he scowled at Brian and declared, trusting his friend to tell him the truth, "I got the distinct impression that your father wasn't very happy to see me."

"Hmm," Brian responded incoherently. Ever since Trixie had announced her decision, he had tried to prepare himself for seeing Jim, just in case he ended up being the one who told him, but everything he had thought he would say had flown out the window the second his friend had come into view.

"Hmm?" Jim repeated leadingly, arching one eyebrow while he waited patiently for Brian to continue, and stared his friend down.

"There is the slightest chance that he may be a little upset with you," Brian remarked, choosing his words carefully.

"I thought so." Jim crossed his arms over his chest before adding, "From that charming display between you and Mart a few minutes ago, I can't help but feel that Mart has the same feelings towards me. Mart has to be more than upset with me, too. He has never acted like that towards me before. What gives, Brian?"

Brian leaned against the counter and prayed for some kind of guidance. The only choice he had available was the truth. It was not going to go down easy, of that he was certain. Sighing, he remarked, "I don't want to speak for my father or my brother but I believe your instincts are right."

"So both your father and Mart are furious with me," Jim inferred from Brian's precisely constructed answers. Shaking his head, he ran an agitated hand through his red hair. "You must know that Trixie and I had a fight. Well, two fights, actually," he corrected himself. "Right before I left for the camp. That's the real reason why I'm here. I'd like to see her, if that's all possible. I need to talk to her."

Mart came to the back door with the same, satisfied smile on his face. He had managed to elude his mother, who had been curious about the happenings in the kitchen, had slipped into the den and climbed out the window, and then had raced around the house to the back porch. He swaggered into the room, narrowed his eyes with a superior look on his face at Brian, who groaned at seeing him re-enter the scene, and then focused on Jim before reiterating sarcastically, "So, he wants to see Trixie, does he, Brian?"

"Mart," Brian grumbled in the unfriendliest tone he had ever used, chagrined by his brother's appearance. True to his prediction on the morning of Trixie's departure, Mart had been extremely irritating. He wasn't the only Belden who almost wished that Mart would take up permanent residence at the Lynch estate. Di truly was the only one who could keep him acting close to normal since Trixie had left. He sent up a tiny prayer for patience although he knew that it was a useless endeavor. "Now's not the time," he insisted strongly. "I think I made it perfectly clear that you weren't needed right now."

"I beg to differ with you, Brian. You must certainly do need me here and now is the perfect time. The perfectly perfect time, as our lovely club-mate likes to say." Mart whirled around, faced Jim. There wasn't an ounce of warmth on his face or in his voice. "You're in the wrong place if you want to see Trixie," he declared cryptically.

Mart wasn't using his normal three or four syllabic words. Jim didn't have to take the time to search out a definition for any of the words that he had said. For some reason that worried him. He couldn't wrap his mind around the meaning or the reason why Mart seemed to wish him serious bodily harm. "Mart, what is wrong?" he began instead, hoping to get it out in the open so that they could deal with it, solve it, and then move on. He didn't like being the cause of conflict, especially within their close-knit group. "We've been friends ever since I've moved here. Why are you so angry with me?"

Mart's smile sharpened. He actually let out a small laugh. It didn't have an ounce of humor to it; sounded hollow, detached and made an eerie shiver creep up Jim's spine. He pointed at Jim, posed his next response to Brian again. "Now he wants to know why I'm angry with him. Should I tell him?" he asked with deceptive innocence.

"No!" Brian ordered him forcefully and felt the situation slipping even further out of his hands. He tried to regain control of it, to at least allow his best friend to discover what had happened without having his face slammed into it, by saying, "Mart. I'm only going to say this once more. Get the hell out of here. Now. I can handle it."

In a show of brotherly defiance that didn't sit well upon his shoulders, Mart used his foot to pull out a chair and sat down heavily at the kitchen table. He drummed his fingers on the table. "I'm staying," he declared caustically, in case Brian hadn't caught the hint. "But, please, do go on with what you want to say to our co-president over there. I'll only chime in if I feel that you are messing it up. I promise." He held up his fingers in the time-honored scout promise but the glint to his eyes foretold that he had no intentions of honoring it.

Brian glared up at the ceiling and let out a long, low breath. Between an anxious Jim and his aggravating brother, he didn't know how much more he could handle. All he needed was his ax-wielding father to make the scene even more complete. When footsteps pounded up the back steps, he flinched, expecting it to be their patriarch.

Dan's cheerful whistle announced his presence even before he entered the kitchen. His greeting died on his lips. His dark eyes took the situation in at once. The tension between the three was thick, grueling and tangible. He stared at Jim for the longest of times and studied him intently, every nuance and every emotion. Judging from the puzzled and wary expression on the redhead's face, he didn't know about Trixie and her whereabouts. Yet. His gaze swung to Mart next. He was barely containing his fury, looked like he was ready to pulverize one James Winthrop Frayne II at any possible moment. And then on to Brian…who appeared to be contemplating the idea of wringing someone's neck. Most likely Mart's, Dan thought with a shake of his head. He immediately, and not so casually, positioned himself between Jim and Mart. Just in case. "Hey, Jim," he greeted their friend easily, keeping one sharp eye out on Mart. "I see that you're back."

"Yeah," Jim responded with a narrowed gaze at Mart. Lines wrinkled his forehead while he recalled how Mart had mentioned that he was in the wrong place to see Trixie. Although it perplexed him more than he wanted to say, Mart's defiant behavior didn't lend to asking him any further questions. Deciding that all he could do was ride his uncertainty out until one of his friends chose to make it clearer to him, he added, "Just got back, actually. I unloaded my car and came straight here."

"Did you enjoy the camp?" Dan continued into the silence, trying his best to keep his voice light and the conversation simple. He rested a lean hip against the table in a misleadingly negligent pose, ready to spring into action should the need arise, and tried to come up with the best way of handling the situation. Short of throwing Mart over his shoulder and removing him from the room, which did not promise to be fun or easy, there wasn't a single other thing to be done.

"Not really," Jim answered frankly, craning his neck to look at the back door. He could almost hear the sounds of her rapid footsteps coming their way. It was a sound he had heard often enough in the past. With all the noise the four of them were making, he was startled that she wasn't already in the kitchen and frowned in concentration. Where could she be? Maybe a new summer job? It bothered him that he didn't have an answer. "It was good experience, I guess, but I would rather have stayed home. I'm kicking myself for signing up for another go-round of it," he shared half-heartedly, getting more nervous as each second ticked by on the clock and Trixie did not show up.

"I would be delighted to kick you," Mart admitted threateningly under his breath, earning another mumbled and forceful order from his older brother to keep quiet.

Jim heard it. With his body set in rigid lines, he faced Mart and only Mart. "I've had enough of your attitude, Mart. I can't respond to you until you tell me why you are acting this way. What the hell happened?"

Brian moved with an unexpected speed before his younger brother could. He put a forceful hand on Mart's shoulder, keeping him in his seat before he could pop up out of it, and wished that he had a gag to wrap around his brother's mouth. Anything would do; just anything that would shut him up. Speaking hurriedly and over the words that Mart was simply dying to say, he requested fiercely, "Jim, why don't you and I step outside for a few minutes? We can go on the porch, away from my annoying brother here. We can talk like civilized people." He ignored the angry glare that Mart sent his way.

Dan nodded his head, in solid agreement with Brian. The best way for him to help was to keep Mart occupied. "That sounds like a good idea, Brian. Mart and I will…" He glanced around the kitchen that was much cleaner than normal, a testament to the amount of time Helen had recently been spending on her household chores, didn't see a thing that needed to be done, and floundered briefly for a way to finish his thought. "Well, I guess we'll stay here and see if your mother left us some desert," he finally ended up saying, hoping that the thought of food, and especially dessert, would help keep Mart from taking out his own hurt on Jim.

In a surprise move, Mart said three words that the others had never heard him utter before, "I'm not hungry." He cocked an eyebrow, unperturbed by his brother's close presence or his own best friend's desire to get him out of the picture. "You just got here, Dan, so you don't know why Jim is here yet. He wants to see Trixie," he informed him overly brightly.

"Right," Dan remarked stupidly and fisted his hands at his side. He could practically feel it coming, knew that Mart was going to let the cat out of the bag in all its screeching, yowling glory. And, if he didn't miss his guess, in the most unsympathetic way possible. It was obvious that Mart wished to have Jim hurt as much as the rest of them, if not more. Dan knew that it didn't matter how Jim found out, either carefully and compassionately or meanly and callously. He was going to hurt, no matter what. Rasping out the name, he said, "Trixie."

Jim couldn't take his gaze off of Mart. "Where is she, Mart?" he questioned with forced calmness.

About to answer, Mart grunted when Brian's hand collided with the side of his head, causing bells to start ringing momentarily in his ears. "Hey!" he complained instead, glowered and rubbed his head until the bells subsided and he could hear normally again.

"Outside, Jim. Let's go," Brian suggested forcefully. He started to move, intending to get out the door before Mart regained full thought and speech.

"This has been quite a welcome," Jim noted with a lame attempt at a joke that didn't make anyone within the room smile or even crack a grin. Suddenly more worried than puzzled, he turned to follow Brian to the back door.

Shaking his head, Mart leaned back in his chair, a smirk on his face. Finally he was going to have an outlet for his own pent-up frustrations. His face was a portrait of innocence although the glint to his unfriendly blue eyes told the truth. "Have you ever been to California, Jim?" he inquired casually, well aware that he was about to incur the wrath of his brother.

Completely confused, Jim spun around a mere foot away from the back door and missed the loud, telling groans from both Dan and Brian. "California?" he repeated, frowning. He scrubbed a hand over his face, confused, and admitted, "No, I've never been there. Why would you ask that?"

Mart didn't answer the question. "I didn't think so. In all of the places we visited, I can't seem to remember any of us ever making it out there. No Bob-White trips out to sunny California, that's for sure. I'm certain we would have had a fun time, though. I hear it is an absolutely lovely state," he added in an offhand manner, finding a dark delight in the confusion on Jim's face.

"Mart," Dan inserted warningly with a worried look at Brian, who returned it with a chagrined one of his own. He raised his shoulders, ready to admit defeat, and dropped his hand from the door frame. They had lost. Mart was going to do it.

Jim blew out a frustrated breath, fed up with Mart and the way he was acting towards him. "I don't care about California, Mart, and I really don't know why you're talking about it or why the hell you're being so rude to me. All I want to do is talk to Trixie," he insisted.

"Trixie and California go hand-in-hand right now," Mart explained carefully as if he was talking to a preschooler and overlooked Jim's accusation that he was being rude. He leaned back on his chair in a manner his mother never approved of, with the front legs of his chair suspended in the air and back rubbing up against the table, and nodded his head sagely. "If you really want to talk to her, you're going to have to call her. Oh, and you're going to have to remember the time difference. They are three hours behind us, you know," he supplied helpfully.

A pain started throbbing behind his temple. It promised to be a killer of a headache. The words didn't make any sense to him. Unable to comprehend what Mart had just said, Jim drew back and demanded furiously, his patience stretched as far as it could possibly go, "What _the hell_ are you talking about?"

With the other two looking on and absolutely no way to prevent Mart from spilling the truth, he lifted both his eyebrows and was overjoyed in saying, "Trixie, Jim. That's who you came to see, right? Good luck with that, by the way. She's not here anymore."

"What?" Again, he couldn't make a modicum of sense out of what Mart had said. He shook his head to clear it but it didn't help. "Trixie?" he repeated inanely.

"Yeah, Trixie," Mart responded bitterly. "She shocked us all by deciding to move out West. She's gone to California. I can't imagine why she would make such a move. Can you?" He spoke innocently but it was obvious to all who he blamed for Trixie's move.

Jim didn't feel the recriminations coming his way from Mart. He couldn't get past the words. Trixie. Gone. California. They sank in, slowly and deliberately. And all expression dropped off of his face. He went white, shockingly white, behind his summer tan. And his eyes…the emerald green first glimmered with shock, then swiftly turned dull. He took a wide step back from all of them, stared in stunned surprise at Mart while he swore that the room started to tilt and spin. The throbbing blossomed beautifully into a full-blown killer of a headache. "What did you say?" he hissed out in a gargled tone of voice none of them had ever heard him use before.

"I don't know how to make it any clearer for you, Jim. For someone who skipped a grade in school and is only a year away from graduating from college, you are much denser than I had ever given you credit for. I guess the third time's going to have to be the charm," he remarked insultingly, refusing to be moved by the confusion and the pain written plainly across Jim for all to see. He repeated with forced cheer, "Trixie's in California. She moved out there last Saturday."

He could not believe it; actually could not understand what his mind was hearing. Hating to ask for clarity, hardly able to stand it if it was the truth, he got out raspily, "Brian? Dan?" They would tell him the truth. Staring frantically at both of his friends, he prayed for a denial, hoping against hope that Mart was playing some kind of a cruel practical joke against him.

"True," Dan murmured quietly and compassionately, turning to give Mart a dirty look while Brian stared helplessly down at the extremely clean floor with his shoulders hunched.

He didn't say another word. Jim turned sharply on his heels. The screen door slammed behind him as he left the house. Loudly. As he rushed down the steps and away from his friends, it all started to make perfect sense to him. The unusual way Peter Belden, usually so open and friendly, had treated him. The fact that Mart, a good friend of his, had apparently wanted to maim him. How Brian, and even Dan, had attempted to run interference for him. And the undeniable lack of one vibrant, buoyant blonde who should have been present in the room. While there was a tiny part of him that wanted to ask why Trixie had felt the need to move the entire way across the country, so swiftly and completely out of the blue, the icy cold hurt slowly seeping into him in the aftermath of Mart's announcement chilled away the thought. He couldn't deny one all-encompassing fact. Trixie, his Trixie, was gone.


	32. Chapter 32

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Thirty-One

After the screen door slammed shut and the footsteps rapidly dissipated from earshot, Brian glowered at his brother. He forcefully put his hands down on the table, making the small pot of marigolds that served as their cheerful centerpiece jump, and leaned across until they were nose-to-nose. "What were you thinking?" he bit out heatedly, angered by Mart's nonchalant delivery of the news to Jim and the fact that he didn't seem to be bothered by it in the least. "How the hell could you tell him like that?"

Quirking an eyebrow, Mart refused to feel the small jab of guilt. It wouldn't have sat well upon his shoulders; not with the way he had told Jim. Leaning back in his chair, he managed to get some much-needed breathing room from the furious face of his older brother. He dispassionately thought that he had never seen Brian look quite so angry before. "I did what had to be done," he retorted with a toss of his head that mirrored one of Trixie's favorite moves when she was aggravated or needed to defend herself.

Brian wasn't buying it. He jabbed a finger into Mart's chest, would have pushed him back if he wasn't already sitting in a chair. "Did you see what Jim looked like when you told him?" he continued, not letting Mart off the hook for a single moment. "I did. I have never seen him look like that before. He looked devastated. You had to know that he wasn't going to take it well. You should have let me handle it like I tried to."

He rubbed at the spot on his chest where Brian had practically drilled his finger into. Mart shrugged a philosophical shoulder, undeterred from his current line of thinking. "None of us have taken it especially well," he retorted smartly in his defense. While it was the truth, it wasn't the reason why he had insisted on sharing it with Jim in such a way. With one lip curling up, he inquired easily, "Why should Jim be any different?"

Because he wanted to throttle Mart until he saw the whole picture, Brian eased back, needing some distance, and stuck his hands into the pockets of his shorts. Frowning in disappointment, he reminded Mart, "Trixie made it very clear when she told us about her choice that we were not to blame Jim for whatever happened between the two of them."

"Maybe she was clear, maybe she wasn't. I don't really care. All I know is that I never promised her anything like that," Mart countered smoothly and truthfully. He wouldn't have been able make such a promise to her which is why she hadn't asked him. With Brian standing over him, he felt at a serious disadvantage and scooted back his chair. It seemed to even things out when he stood up. "I call it as I see fit, Brian. As much as all of us would like to, we can't change the fact that Trixie's gone. I, for one, am perfectly willing to lay the responsibility for that unpleasant shock on Jim's shoulders." With a smirk, he unlocked the kitchen door and sauntered out of the room, whistling under his breath.

"We're going to have to give him time," Dan muttered under his breath. He had known that Mart wasn't happy with Jim. They had all known that. It hadn't been a secret. But he had never, ever expected Mart to delight in sharing the unexpected news with a stunned Jim. "We're going to have to give Jim some time, too. I doubt if either one of them is going to want to see much of us right now," he accurately predicted.

Brian sank down heavily into the chair. Between his brother and his father, he was practically at his wit's end. He despised it when the role of peace-maker fell on him. With Jim home, it was only going to make it more difficult before it got better. "You're right, Dan," he answered, feeling exhausted. He rubbed his eyes, thought about calling Honey to warn her that Jim knew and glanced at the phone. "It seems like we're all going to have to muddle through the mess that Trixie and Jim made together even though that wasn't what Trixie wanted for us."

Dan made his way towards the back door and peered out. There was no sign of Jim. "I want to try and talk things out with him. I'm going to catch up to him and see if I can't smooth out some of the wrinkles," he declared, one foot already out the door. When Brian started to stand, Dan shook his head. "No. Stay here, Brain. I'll try first. I may have the best luck. After all, I'm not a Belden." He gave the best grin he could muster and went outside.

Dan followed in what he thought were Jim's footsteps, moving as fast as his long legs would let him go. As he neared the Belden's orchard, he halted when he heard the sound of an ax somewhere off in the distance and lifted his eyebrows in appreciation. Whoever was chopping some type of wood was doing one hell of a job at it. Grateful that he wasn't the one to completing the chore, he continued on and concentrated on looking out for signs of Jim but he couldn't find any. Dan slowed down his pace as he came to the realization that there was only one place where Jim was going to go. His house; where he would be able to lick his wounds in private and in solitude. By the time he broke through the woods and stood on the front expanse of the Wheeler's front lawn, he was just in time to see the front door of the Manor House close. Realizing that Jim had made it home, Dan moved forward, only to be brought to a halt when his name was called out from behind.

"Dan!" Breathless, Honey raced out from the stables. She had managed to catch sight of Jim as he had practically sprinted across the lawn and had yelled to him to stop. He hadn't responded to her greetings. From the short distance, she hadn't been able to get a good glimpse of his face. She pulled out the white band that had kept her hair off of her face, absently slipped it onto her wrist and hurried to meet him on the driveway and pointed at Jim's Jeep. "Jim's back. I saw him cutting across the lawn a few minutes ago. If your uncle wasn't such a stickler for keeping the equipment in such great shape, I would have been able to catch him before he went into the house." A small breeze lifted her hair, teased it. She caught it and automatically tucked it behind an ear and stared with a mixture of anticipation and dread at Dan.

He didn't waste any time. "Jim knows, Honey," Dan informed her before she had a chance to catch her breath or ask the question.

The three words made her heart stop. "Oh. Dear." She blinked back an onslaught of tears and concentrating on her breathing. When she was relatively certain that she had her emotions under control, she let out a small humph and slapped a hand to her waist. "How…umm, how did he take it?"

"I'm not really certain," Dan answered, half-truthfully. Jim hadn't said much to them about how he felt. His eyes had spoken volumes, though. Dull, dark, and impossibly haunted. Dan ran a hand through his thick hair and aimed a finger in the direction of the house. "He got out of the kitchen as fast as his legs would carry him and didn't stop rushing until he made it to your house. I followed him from Crabapple Farm but I never caught up to him. He was always a good distance ahead of me."

"I see. Well." Because her hands wanted to shake, she clasped them together and contemplated the information Dan had shared with her. Breaking down wasn't going to solve anything. She focused all her energy on remaining calm. When she was relatively certain that she wasn't going to start babbling or crying, Honey inclined her head and declared decisively, "Okay. There's only one thing we can do right now. We need to find out how he is doing, Dan. You can tell me more about Jim and his reaction on the way inside the house."

He fell into step as their feet crunched under the gray gravel on the path to the front door. "Mart told him," he began without preamble and sighed at her gasp of surprise. "Short of gagging him, which is what he probably should have done in the first place, Brian tried everything possible to shut him up but it was to no avail. Mart let it out. He told him that Trixie had moved away."

Honey felt an immense amount of sympathy well up within her for her brother. The talk she had shared with the Belden brothers on the front porch of their house the morning that Trixie had left flashed briefly before her. She closed her eyes in resignation. Mart hadn't come close to accepting the move in the eight days Trixie had been gone. She didn't even want to imagine what the scene in the normally friendly kitchen must have been like. "Mart was probably the last person Jim should have heard it from," she said lowly. Her hazel eyes went soft with sorrow.

"Tell me about it." Rocking back on his heels, Dan waited patiently as Honey opened the front door. Then he noticed that the suitcases were still by the door. Amazed that he could find something amusing in the entire debacle, he grinned at her, an honest, full grin that stretched across his handsome face. "It looks like Jim forgot to bring in his things from camp. Let's be helpful, Honey," Dan declared insistently. "I'll take one of the suitcases up. You can grab the carry-on bag over there."

Comprehension dawned immediately. "Good idea, Dan," Honey said slowly, sharing a grin with him that evaporated from her face when she remembered the reason why they were going to visit her brother. Sighing, she admitted, "It will give us an excuse to at least get us into the doorway of his room. Hopefully, the bags will even get us inside."

"My thoughts exactly." Dan grabbed the suitcase, walked over the threshold and started up the staircase, Honey two steps behind him.

"How bad was it?" Honey questioned as she followed behind him.

Dan's grin slipped off of his face. "I wasn't there when Jim first got to the house. I came in at the end of it." Sucking in a deep breath, he admitted, "It wasn't pleasant, though. Me and Brian could both have cheerfully murdered Mart on the spot. Mart wasn't that sympathetic to Jim, as you've probably already figured out. If you want me to be completely honest with you, I have to say that I've never seen Jim look like that before."

"How…how did he look?" Honey had to force the inquiry past her quivering lips. She halted in the middle of the staircase and waited for Dan to continue.

"He looked…" Dan paused, searched for the right word, and finally decided upon, "lost. He looked lost, Honey." He doubted if he would ever forget the expression on Jim's face. It went beyond lost but he wasn't gifted with Mart's silver tongue and couldn't come up with the right descriptive word to share with Honey. Lost did a fair job of encompassing the emotional upheaval.

His choice was effective enough. Honey covered her mouth with her hand, stifled a gasp. She wasn't certain what she had been expecting Dan to say but it hadn't been that. "Oh, Jim," she mumbled, feeling absolutely terrible for both her brother and her best friend. Her eyes slipped to the floor while she wondered how the two of them could have come to such a hideous spot in their relationship.

"Jim doesn't know much about Trixie. All he knows is that she moved to California last weekend. He didn't stick around to hear more or to question us about why she suddenly moved out west," Dan shared when they neared the top of the stairs. Pitching his voice lower, he continued, "You can't really blame him, though. I got the distinct impression that he doesn't care why Trixie left Sleepyside. He won't be able to see anything for a long time beyond the fact that she moved away."

"Without telling him," Honey put in quietly. That significant detail had to hurt him as much as the move. She shuddered when she thought how he would react to the fact that Trixie had changed universities, too. It didn't promise to be a fun reveal, mainly because he hadn't made the connection yet on how serious of a break Trixie had instigated between herself and Sleepyside. Stiffening her back, Honey took over and led the way down the hall. Forcing a cheerful smile on her face that belied the concern in her eyes, she rapped loudly on his closed door. Not surprising, there was no answer. She turned to Dan with a small frown. "What now?" she asked lowly.

"He's in there. He has to be," Dan whispered back. He took over and pounded his closed fist on the door, much louder and more insistent. "Jim?" he called out in his deep voice. "Are you in there?" Again, he wasn't surprised by the fact that there still wasn't an answer.

"He doesn't want to open up to us." Honey cocked her hip to the side, contemplated the door and the suitcase, and then felt a cunning smile split her pretty heart-shaped face. "Dan," she murmured in a conspiratorial whisper.

Interested, he turned to look at her and found his own lips smiling back. He didn't know why he was smiling at her but he realized it was going to be good. It was in her voice. It promised something tantalizing. "Yeah, Honey?"

"We have his bags," she pointed out cheerfully, holding up the one she was carrying for good measure. "Let's just say that we were to open up his door and put them inside. You know, since we are such helpful friends. He won't think we're intruding…well, let me amend that," she broke in swiftly. "Of course he will know that we are entering his room with the purpose to see him but at least we will have a good excuse to go inside without him opening the door and inviting us in, if you see what I mean." She let out a helpless chuckle at her trademark ramble and pursed her lips together. Her hazel eyes lit up with pleasure at her plan.

"Honey Wheeler," Dan declared with admiration. "I couldn't have thought of a better idea myself. You certainly learned a lot from Trixie, didn't you?"

"Don't you know it!" she replied saucily and, for good measure, knocked on the door for a third time. When he didn't answer, Honey didn't waste a minute. She briskly turned the handle and opened the door. "Since he's not here, Dan, we'll just leave his things inside his room. Jim won't mind in the least," she announced in a loud stage whisper to Dan, doing her best not to giggle when she caught sight of her silent brother standing by his window with his back to them. Stopping with one foot in the room, she dropped the bag to the floor and looked at him in feigned amazement. "Oh, look, Dan! He is inside! He must not have heard our knocking," she declared giddily.

If he had the strength, he would have rolled his eyes. As it was, Jim swallowed back a disappointed sigh that they hadn't taken the hint and grumbled lowly, "You can drop the act, Honey. I know what you and Dan are doing here. I heard your knocking. I didn't answer because I didn't want to see you." Desperate to be alone and away from the prying eyes of his family and friends, he dropped his head in weary resignation when the two came into the room his room.

"We're here now," Honey remarked. Half the battle was won. They had made it into the room. Now she had to figure out a way to get Jim to talk to her. She shook her head and desperately wished that Jim would turn around so that she could see his face. Only by looking at him directly would she be able to get a firm handle on the situation. Taking control, she insisted, "I'm glad that you know why Dan and I are visiting you, other than to welcome you home, of course. We want to have a talk with you." Competent fingers reached back and closed the door behind them with a quiet click.

Dan took a large amount of time to lean the suitcase up against the wall. Satisfied that it wouldn't fall over, he straightened and studied Jim's back. Defensively, definitely. Unfriendly, too, he couldn't help but note. "What did you bring with you to camp?" he complained to Jim, wanting to put him at ease if at all possible. "I only had to carry that thing up one flight of stairs. You must have filled it up with boulders or tree stumps or something even worse from that camp of yours."

"Ha,ha," Jim grumbled from the window. He ran a hand over his face, hoping against hope that he was taking away the wealth of emotions he knew had to be written plainly across it, and turned around to face the two of them. "So, why are the two of you visiting me?"

Honey swallowed back her gasp. He looked awful. Positively awful. She barely resisted the urge to run over and throw her arms around to comfort him. Instead, she sank onto the edge of his meticulously made bed and lifted her eyebrows. "I hear that you know about Trixie," she began slowly, gauging his reaction.

Jim kept his body stiff and still, not letting any outward signs show the affects that even her name could do to him. It was difficult to keep his face smooth. It was even harder not to move. He was relatively successful at concealing his feelings. Only his eyes gave him away. A bit sad, a bit lost, and a lot tortured. "I seem to remember hearing something about California," he answered, satisfied with the evenness of his tone.

Dan nodded at his friend. "Yeah. She flew out last Saturday," he mentioned, uncertain if Jim had caught that little tidbit from Mart. Judging from the way his eyes flared up, he wasn't entirely certain if Jim even cared about the particulars.

Jim didn't want to know the who, what, where, when, whys or hows, not when he couldn't grasp the fact that she wasn't residing in the same state as him. It went well beyond his capability; had slammed into him with the unexpected force of a hurricane and had left him reeling. He hadn't even started to wonder yet if it was merely a summer move to regain her composure or something much more permanent. He didn't have the strength to concentrate on anything other than the fact that she wasn't here. Part of him was still hoping that he would wake up from the worst nightmare of his life, and soon. Since he didn't know what to say and didn't trust what could come out of his mouth, he chose not to respond.

"She's been gone for eight days," Honey told him, her words coming out in a rush while she started to get nervous when Jim didn't reply back to her. "She left last Saturday, as Dan said to you. She's called a lot since she's been there, though. I talked to her last night. She says that she's having a good time. I think she spends a lot of her free time at the beach."

Jim's frown deepened as Honey shared bits and bits of information that he didn't want to know about. He didn't need the images of Trixie out in California. He didn't want them at all. Jim kept quiet, didn't tell her to stop talking although his heart was yelling at him to do just that, and stared at a point far off in the distance.

"But enough about that," Honey said, interrupting her train of thought with a concerned look at Jim. More worried than ever by his continued silence, she dropped her untimely and unwisely reveal of Trixie's life since her move. Anxiously, she proclaimed, "You're, ah, um, probably wondering how California came to be an option for Trixie."

"No. Not really," Jim half-lied. Unwilling to ask how, unable to admit even the tiniest bit of curiosity to himself, he walked over to the suitcase Dan had brought up and tossed it onto his bed. While the other two watched in morbid fascination, he began to take his clothes out of the suitcase and sorting them into laundry piles on his bed, without asking them a single question about Trixie and why she had moved.

Dan looked at Honey over her brother's bent head. Lifting her eyebrows, she couldn't offer him any clue about her brother's behavior. Perplexed, he glanced back at Jim. "Trixie was offered a scholarship," he mentioned into the growing silence.

Jim tried to ignore his friend. He started placing the clothes into darks and whites. Using more force than was necessary, he tossed a few white T-shirts into a pile. "I seem to remember something about that," he said when it appeared that they were waiting for him to say something. There was also the tricky fact that he didn't remember anything about Trixie and a potential move out of state. When he felt the edges of his fraying temper starting to ignite, he took a series of deep, calming breaths and concentrated on his chore as if it was the most important job in the world. Unfortunately, at that moment, it was to him. It helped him regain a hold on his sanity and not to lose it in front of the other two.

"She didn't only get the one scholarship that she told us about," Honey jumped in to hastily explain. "She was offered a second one by the same scholarship committee. She didn't tell us about it at the time basically because she didn't consider it a possibility. She never thought about accepting it until, well…just until," she finished awkwardly, eluding to their problems as tactfully as possible. Honey inhaled deeply before taking the plunge. "You see, the second one gave her a full scholarship to California University."

The pair of white socks fell out of his grip to land on his bed. Eyes, deadly, dark, and dangerous, leveled on her. "A full scholarship?" he repeated in a deep, low voice as the meaning behind California become clear as crystal in his mind. For the first time he realized how permanent the move was. He didn't think it was possible, could hardly believe it was true, but the knowledge magnified his own pain ten-fold.

When nothing came out of Honey's mouth other than a few stuttered sounds, Dan picked the explanation up. "Yeah. She wasn't going to accept it but then she decided to, as I'm certain you've already figured out. She withdrew from NYU and is going to CU in the fall." He watched Jim carefully for a reaction.

Other than a bright glow within the depths of the emerald green, Jim didn't react. Inside was a different story. His heart splintered even more. She had moved and had changed universities, as well. Why that should bother him more than a move across the country, he couldn't tell. The feelings of disbelief, betrayal and even fury bubbled within, threatened to suffocate and overwhelm him, and made him incapable of anything remotely close to rational thought or speech.

"You're probably also wondering why she went to California this early," Honey said anxiously, biting her lip when he returned to the task of sorting out his laundry, his mouth set in a thin, straight line. "The committee offered her a summer job at one of their affiliates. Trixie started working there this past week at a private detective agency." He kept his head bent, didn't look at her. She wished that her brother would let her know how he was really feeling.

Jim's hand stopped for a moment as he picked out his swimming trunks from the suitcase. He carelessly tossed them into the pile of darks. "Good for her," he declared flatly, tonelessly, and without heat. And without feeling. "Working with real detectives has always been a dream of hers." While the words themselves sounded supportive, the delivery did not. His dreams seemed to be evaporating into thin air swifter than a cool morning mist. He was having trouble keeping up with the bad news.

It wasn't going to get any better. Dan took a deep breath and decided to go in for the kill. "No one seems to know the exact reason why she made such a drastic change. Do you have any ideas, Jim?"

Jim whipped his head around. For the first time a flicker of emotion flared across his face, giving Honey and Dan a glimpse of how much he was hurting. "I might have a few," he gritted out and slammed the lid shut on his half-full suitcase, finished with the mundane chore. "But I'm not going to tell them to either one of you. I'd say it's between Trixie and me but, apparently, there is no more Trixie and me." He stalked back over towards the window, hoped that the two would get out of his room so he could be alone. Solitude was what he craved right now; not company, even well-meaning company.

Honey flinched at his words. Recalling the letter Trixie had entrusted her with, she whispered to Dan, "I'll be back in a minute." She slipped out the door, leaving him alone with Jim, to go find the letter in her room.

He didn't have a hell of a clue about what to do next. Needing to move, Dan skirted around the bed and walked towards the dresser, keeping a concerned eye on Jim who was standing as rigid and unmoving as a marble statue. Drumming his fingers along the top of the dresser, he accidentally came across the cell phone. "Ah," he announced in sudden understanding at something that had bothered him after Jim had left two weeks earlier. He picked up the small device. "This is why you didn't call me back when you left for the city. You forgot it, huh?"

"Yeah," Jim answered shortly, doing his best not to dump the overload of feelings swamping him on his friend. It was more difficult than he could have imagined. He toed out of his shoes and, in an uncharacteristic move, carelessly tossed them towards his closet where they hit the closed door and then landed in a disgraceful heap on the floor.

"I've never known you to forget anything, Jim. Why did you forget your cell?" Dan inquired curiously as he looked over his shoulder at Jim.

The act of speaking her name again renewed the hurt. He doubted if he would ever be able to say it without a great deal of effort or a great deal of pain. "Trixie," he said sharply but didn't elaborate. There was no need.

It was exactly the reason that Dan had suspected. He studied Jim, mentally compared him to how Trixie had looked when the two of them had their private discussion in the woods the day of their picnic. He couldn't come up with a satisfactory answer about which one had looked more miserable or unhappy. Cursing inwardly, he decided that the two could hold a seminar on how to successfully screw up a relationship. "Trixie? What happened between you two?"

"As I said a few minutes earlier, it's nothing you or anyone else needs to know." Jim went back to what was quickly becoming his favorite pastime. Placing a hand on his lean hip, he stared out the window again, intentionally putting his back towards Dan. His friend didn't acknowledge the broad hint, much to Jim's chagrin.

Still looking at Jim, Dan put the cell phone back in its spot. His fingers brushed against something soft yet solid. Glancing down, he saw the black box and remembered Jim's anniversary plans. "Damn," he swore quietly and felt a wave of sympathy splash over him. He wasn't certain who he felt worse for now, Trixie or Jim. In his book, they were both running neck-in-neck.

Jim heard him swear but didn't ask him why. He simply didn't care to know. All he really wanted was to be alone. Since Dan wasn't going to give him his wish for privacy, Jim changed the subject. "Where did Honey go?"

"I don't know. She didn't tell me where she was going." He splayed his hands out on the smooth wood of the dresser and debated about bringing up what the next step for Jim would be. Since they all needed to know, he figured it was safe to question, "What are you going to do now?"

Unable to come up with a satisfactory answer, he lifted his shoulders and answered the simple question with a question, "What do you mean, Dan?"

Dan tried to push Jim into doing what he felt was the right thing to do, both for him and for Trixie. Without hesitating, he suggested, "If it was me and the love of my life had walked out on me, I think I'd be hopping on the next plane I could catch and then I'd be doing whatever I possibly could to bring her back home with me. Begging, groveling, apologizing…whatever it would take. Forgive and forget. She needs to come back home. You know that. You're the only one who can do it."

Jim squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced. Part of him, a tiny, tiny part of him, desperately wanted to do just that, to swallow his pride and swoop down on her and bring her home, whether she wanted to come or not. But the rest of him, the hurt, angry, and disillusioned part, knew that chasing her down wasn't an option. Not now, not when she had left with such a powerful and potent exit. And not ever, as far as he was concerned. "No," he snapped back, showing more emotion than Dan had expected to hear. "I definitely won't be doing that. She made her choice." And it looked like she hadn't left much of one for him, he thought to himself. His mouth settled back into a thin, straight line while he laid his forehead against the smooth pane of glass. He wasn't going and, if he admitted it to himself, he had no intentions of forgiving or forgetting either.

Dan's first instinct was to argue and to argue fiercely. He opened his mouth to do that but then closed it tight. He wouldn't make any headway, not right now. Jim was in too much pain and was much too stubborn, the same as Trixie. Once they had set a course, it was nearly impossible to steer them away from it. Trixie had chosen California. Jim was obviously choosing to accept the severed ties. It made Dan disappointed and sad for the two of them. "Since we covered that possible answer, I guess I'm still left with my question. What are you going to do now?"

Wondering why he couldn't get a moment's peace, Jim groaned. He hadn't given the idea much thought, didn't really know how to answer it. As a sudden idea began to grow and take shape, he came to the conclusion that he favored it. All he knew was that he couldn't stay in Sleepyside, not within the close proximity of his friends and family. He may not have agreed with her choice but she had the right idea for their situation. He wanted distance, too. "I don't think I'm going to be sticking around here for too long," he answered slowly. "My apartment in the city is starting to look really tempting right now."

"I can't imagine why," Dan said dryly. He would be far away from a wealth of caring people, from sympathetic looks, and also from furious Beldens. Dan couldn't blame Jim even as he despised the fact that it felt like the Bob-Whites were starting to disintegrate right before his very eyes. Worse, there didn't seem to be a thing that anyone could do to prevent it. Their co-presidents were at odds; were both actively seeking a separation from the group.

One edge of his mouth tilted up in a travesty of a smile. "I see you, at least, will understand," he acknowledged after a moment. "I'm not certain how the rest of the group will feel, especially my family. It would be better for me to be away from here. At least, for the next little while."

"Maybe some time away will help. You won't have to worry about me. I won't give you any problems if you decide to turn yourself into a hermit," he declared with forced jovialness. "I promise to leave you alone."

Becoming a hermit sounded quite appealing. No friends, no family, no Bob-Whites. No ties. At the moment, it sounded like an odd and tainted version of heaven to him. Jim nodded his head, liking the idea of getting away from Sleepyside more and more with each passing second. He glanced at the clothes on his bed and contemplated repacking them. If he did, he could return to the city sooner rather than later. Maybe even tonight. "I could do it," he muttered to himself, already making plans. The thought of having four walls without anyone else inhabiting the space between them seemed like a marvelous idea.

Aware that they were about to lose another Bob-White, Dan turned to the door when it opened and nodded solemnly at Honey. She wouldn't like the new news, just as Jim had predicted. She would hate the fact that her brother wanted to move back into the city especially when he was hurting. "Hey, where did you go?" he questioned, keeping their conversation to himself.

She ignored Dan. Honey slipped over the threshold and headed for her brother, her steps sharp and distinctive. A white envelope was held in her hands. Chewing on her bottom lip, uncertain of his reaction, she hesitatingly offered it to him. "Here, Jim. This is for you," she told him quietly, her eyes imploring him to accept it.

His name was printed on the front of the envelope in handwriting that he would have known anywhere. He had spent enough time tutoring her during her high school years. He didn't have to open its contents to know who it was from. Thinking that she had taken the coward's way out, slightly stunned that she would have resorted to writing him a letter, he sneered down at it. "I don't think so," he announced empathically and turned his back on it. He strode swiftly and purposefully towards his dresser and snatched up the velvet box. "You can keep the letter, Honey, and this, too. I don't want either of them." He held the box out to her. The ultra tiny object nestled in his palm felt like it weighed a ton.

Left with no other option, Honey gingerly accepted the small box. Holding the letter in one hand and the box in the other, she searched in vain for something to say. Knowing that he wouldn't appreciate her sympathy and that he definitely did not want her pity, she cleared her throat and offered haltingly, "I'll hold onto them for you, Jim. You can let me know when you want them back."

She caught him off-guard. He frowned at her and shook his head. "No. I won't want them back. Ever," he insisted strongly. "I don't want to see them again. You can do what you want with them. Tear up the letter or burn it. Sell the ring on eBay or give it away. I can honestly tell you that I don't want to see them again." He spoke empathically, meaning every single word.

"You're wrong, Jim. You have to be. I'll give them back to you _when_ you want them back," she repeated fiercely, her eyes narrowing on him and daring him to contradict her. "You can trust me. I'll take good care of them. All you'll have to do is ask me for them."

Having lived with his adopted sister for a long time, he knew when to push and also when to give in. Deciding that arguing with her wouldn't get him anywhere and that it didn't matter anyway, he quickly dropped the subject and stared meaningfully at Dan and then at Honey. Not caring if it was epitome of rudeness, he gestured towards the door and muttered, "I've had enough company for one day. If you two wouldn't mind, I'd like to be alone now."

Honey didn't want to leave him, not when it was blatantly obvious that he was hurting despite his best efforts to keep it hidden from him. Going with sisterly instinct, she pushed the items into Dan's hands and then threw her arms around her brother, not at all surprised or hurt when he didn't return her hug. "It's going to be all right, Jim," she whispered quietly into his ear, giving him an extra squeeze for good measure. Drawing back, she tapped his shoulders and spoke insistently, "I don't know how. I don't know when. But I can guarantee you that everything is going to turn out all right in the end. It will. I firmly believe it," she added with a defiant toss of her head.

There was no way he could agree with her. He doubted if anything would ever feel even remotely close to being all right to him ever again. He didn't voice his thoughts, kept them to himself, and wondered how the hell he was going to get through the next while knowing that Trixie was gone for good. Because he loved his sister and almost appreciated her efforts to help, Jim gave in and patted her back before dropping his hands back to his side. "I, uh, have a few things left to do," he declared instead and stared pointedly at his bedroom door.

"In other words…get out," Dan correctly interpreted with a touch of his normal grin. After giving a two-fingered salute, he walked with Honey towards the door. They had done all that they could but it hadn't been enough. Both of them knew it. Even thought it was fanciful, Dan fervently wished for a famed genie in a bottle. He would use every single wish to get Trixie, Jim and the rest of the Bob-Whites back to where they needed to be. And what he wouldn't give for a few minutes of alone-time with one Sax Jenner, who was the unwitting catalyst in the entire damn debacle. "I'll see you around, Jim," he said in farewell.

Honey sent one last look over her shoulder at her brother. She felt a fresh set of tears spring to her eyes. "Take care, Jim. I'm right across the hall if you need to talk to me," she informed him softly. "Come over if you want to hang out or talk. I'm here for you, Jim."

He acknowledged them with a curt nod and then turned his back on them again, more than ready to spend the time alone. When the door closed behind them and he was finally, blessedly, and blissfully alone, he scrubbed his hand over his face and let the pain wash over and around him until there was nothing left but an icy, numb feeling.

In the hallway, Honey stared at the closed door for a long, long minute, her heart aching for both her brother and Trixie. She absently accepted the envelope and the ring back from Dan and sighed. She had hoped that Jim would accept Trixie's letter. "This isn't good, is it, Dan?"

"No." Dan's low groan was answer enough. "We'll have to do our best to keep everyone together," he declared after a moment. "Trixie and Jim aren't going to be very good at it right now. She took herself out of the equation by moving to the opposite side of the country. And Jim…well, time will tell how he handles it." He pondered Jim's next move, remembered their conversation about the apartment in the city. The odds were more than great that they were going to be two Bob-Whites short in Sleepyside for the time being.

"You're right. It's sad but true." Honey gave her head a shake, sent her hair billowing out around her, and headed towards her room. With one hand on the door handle, she waved good-bye to Dan and went into her bedroom. "Thanks for your help, Dan. I really appreciated it. He won't admit it but I know that it meant a lot to Jim, too." She looked down at the black box and the white envelope in her hands. One carried a promise and a future. The other…she wasn't certain what was written inside it. Only Trixie knew. She considered for one wild, insane moment to put aside her good manners and breeding and tear into the envelope in order to find out the contents herself but resolutely decided against it. It was not for her to read, no matter how curious she was to discover what Trixie had to say to Jim. "I'm going to put these two things in a safe place," she mumbled and gave him a small, sad smile.

As Dan's footsteps faded away, Honey shut her door and clutched the personal items to her chest. She glanced around her room, searching out the best place to store them. A beam of sunlight filtered through the window and splashed across the cherry wood of her desk almost as if the heavens were leading her to it. Nodding, she decided that the desk was the perfect place and crossed the length of her room. After opening a drawer, she reverently placed the items within and closed it with a quiet click. "He's going to have to want them back," she whispered softly to herself. Someday.


	33. Chapter 33

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Thirty-Two

Between working during the day, spending as much time at the beach as she could, and doing her best to stay busy with anything available to her to keep her mind off of Sleepyside and a certain redheaded inhabitant of the small town a plane ride away, the time flew by at a record pace. Before Trixie knew it, the first day of classes at California University had come and gone, she had been assigned her practicum placement, and she fell into the new routine of classes, homework, and her placement with an astonishing amount of ease, especially for someone who had never been fond of schoolwork.

Friday came, the end of her second full week of classes. Trixie was probably the only college student on the campus not excited about the upcoming weekend. Since she lived alone, off campus and not in a dorm, she hadn't been able to bond with a floormate or a roommate. Most of her classes were closer to her apartment than to the main dining hall on campus so she hadn't even attempted to eat on campus as of yet. It seemed easier and more practical to stay home and put together a meal for herself. Solitary, maybe, but it didn't bother her. There weren't a lot of familiar faces in any of her classes which surprised her since she was taking the normal introductory courses. She didn't know many people by name. Not many people other than the professors even knew her name. It was entirely different than Sleepyside Junior-Senior High.

As she stepped out into the warm sunshine under an impossibly clear blue sky dotted with wispy trails of fluffy white, she suddenly felt alone and adrift within the sea of college students surrounding her. Glancing to the right and then to the left, all she saw were small clusters of students, greeting each other, laughing, talking, and apparently having a wonderful time. Hating the twin feelings of isolation and homesickness that assaulted her with an unexpected force, Trixie shouldered her backpack and trudged through the crowd.

Deciding that winding her way around and through the small groups of chattering students wasn't for her, she cut across the perfectly manicured lawn, her steps long and purposeful, and started onto the sidewalk. She followed it for three blocks before she entered the busy coffee shop on the corner and waited her turn to order. She had begun the chore during the summer. Each morning she would bring in an order for the employees at the agency. She had volunteered to continue it during the fall semester. Since the shop had agreed to open an account under the name of the agency, she always charged her orders to them.

Balancing the full carrier in one hand and the extra cup in the other, she walked the short distance to the quiet, unimposing building that sat slightly back from the street. A small path lead to the front steps where a dark burgundy front door stood. The building itself was made out of dull, gray stone. Matching burgundy shutters framed the many large windows. The front of the building had views of the street. Offices towards the back were able to look out towards the ocean. It wasn't more than two stories tall and almost seemed to be dwarfed by the other buildings around it. A plain sign with the words Anderson, Donnelly and Christopher emblazoned across it in a precise and neat script was adhered to the building. Her lips tilted up at the corners. It certainly didn't look like a thriving and quite well-respected private investigative agency. Looks were deceiving, as Jocelyn had told her that very first morning two months earlier. Trixie nodded in agreement. She would never have imagined that the agency employed the amount of employees that it did or that it carried such a large caseload.

Shifting the carrier practically overflowing with made-to-go coffees, cappuccinos and hot teas to her hip, she carefully opened the door and stepped into the front room. It wasn't large but it carried a certain amount of subdued ambience to it. Comfortable leather chairs, all in soft browns with matching pillows, where flagged by mahogany end tables. Brass lamps, standing and table-sized, completed the furniture. Reading material was displayed on the tabletops; fanned out in neat, tidy rows. A business-like receptionist sat behind a sliding glass window, in direct view of anyone who came through the door. As usual, she was busy typing away at her computer.

As she always did when she arrived in the afternoons on her assigned days, Trixie knocked on the window with a small smile and held up the medium tea. "For you, Linda," she said cheerfully.

Her fingers stopped their rhythmic clicking of the computer keys. Linda accepted the beverage with a large smile. "Thanks a lot, Trixie. I can tell you that you are a lot more dependable than any of the other college students we've ever had working here. You've been spoiling us. It is such a treat to come back from lunch to this." She took a delicate sip of the warm liquid and sighed in heavenly appreciation. "I don't know how you do it. You even get the amount of cream and sugar right."

"That's because you take it the same way my mother does. It's easy to remember." Trixie's smile faltered a little as it always did when she thought of home and family. It took an effort but she kept it in place and turned to head up the stairs to the small room she had been given to work in. It was affectionately called an office but it resembled more of a cleaned-closet. There was room for a table, a chair, a computer and a printer. Nothing else could fit into the tiny space, which was fine for Trixie. She had all the space she needed to complete the work assigned to her.

"Wait a second, Trixie," Linda called out after another delicate sip. When Trixie paused in the doorway, she explained, "Jocelyn is finally back. We've missed her the past week. She stopped in first thing this morning and hasn't left her office since. She didn't even take a lunch break. She must be swamped. She also wants to see you when you have a chance."

"Okay. I'll stop by her office after I deliver the rest of my orders." She winked and started up the stairs, her curls bouncing with each step. She walked up the steps that were already becoming routine to her and entered the second floor. After depositing the black coffees with two of the private investigators she had become friendly with, she stopped at the office at the end of the hall and knocked on a partially-opened door.

After she was told to come in, Trixie held out the large, fat-free mocha cappuccino and offered it to the busy young woman with a phone at her ear. "Thanks," she mouthed quietly to Trixie and nodded as she continued to talk lowly to the person on the other end and competently entered the information into her computer.

Trixie put the container down on the desk, right next to a desktag that read 'Heidi Miller'. As she always did when she was in Heidi's office, she glanced at the closed door that belonged to the boss of the agency and lifted her eyebrows in speculation. In the two months she had been working there, she hadn't run across him, hadn't seen him, and had never been introduced to him. She was almost wondering if he even existed. No one talked about him much; had always sidestepped any question she had asked about him. Her never-failing curiosity had been stirred but she hadn't been able to successfully ferret out any information on him. It frustrated her. Somehow, she had been left with the impression that he was more a figurehead now than an active participant in the agency, whoever he happened to be. Amazingly, she didn't even know his name.

Heidi hung up the phone with a small sigh of relief and lifted her earth-friendly container in a salute. "Thanks for the cappuccino, Trix," she said as she leaned back in her chair, the shadows under her eyes covered with a liberal coat of concealer. She covered up a yawn with a perfectly manicured hand. "I had a date last night and stayed out just a tad too late. This is going to give me the pick-me-up I need for the afternoon, especially since I wasn't able to catch a full lunch break today. It's been an extremely hectic day." She rolled her eyes and took a healthy, fortifying sip of her sweet drink.

Heidi seemed to have a habit of staying out to late, Trixie had come to realize. She had to be more night owl than morning person. Trixie had been invited to go out to the clubs a few times with her but, so far, she had declined. She wasn't certain if, or when, she would ever accept the offer. Socializing in such a way wasn't part of her own agenda yet. She much preferred her own ways of keeping busy. Alone. "Who was it this time?" she questioned with a twinkle lighting up the blue of her eyes.

"Troy," she remarked with a smile and then reminisced. "Tall, blonde, and very, very handsome. He could dance, too." She let out a small laugh and didn't add that it had been her job to keep him occupied while a few agents had conducted a thorough search through his apartment. She hadn't been given the okay to leave her post until nearly two o'clock in the morning. Reaching down, she slipped off her flats and rubbed her tired, aching feet. Dancing was fun. Dancing for hours on end was not. But she had succeeded in her end, as had the agents working behind the scenes, and, as far as she was concerned, all was right in their world.

"Will you see him again?" Trixie wondered curiously.

He was currently sitting in a jail cell, awaiting his lawyer to arrive and advise him on what his next move should be. The list of identities he had stolen was impressive; as was the large amount of money he had managed to earn from selling the identities, both in the United States and abroad. Normally their agency wouldn't have bothered with the crime he had committed. They much preferred frying bigger fish. However, he had stolen the identity of one of their agents and had sold it abroad. They never overlooked a wrong. Never. The image made her smirk, turned her light green eyes dark with a grim satisfaction. Trixie's question made her chuckle. "Somehow, I doubt it, Trixie. He was a good dancer and all but he just didn't have it, if you know what I mean."

Trixie bit back a small laugh. It was Heidi's normal response. In the time she had been working at the agency, she had realized that Heidi seemed to have a revolving door of disposable dates. And she always had a very similar answer for dismissing each and every one of them. "Better luck next time, Heidi," she remarked, her normal line after hearing about a failed date.

"You never know," she responded dryly and snapped to immediate attention when a red light flashed on her intercom. No voice; just a sign that she was needed in the back room. Now. "Looks like it's back to work for me," she mumbled to herself and slipped her shoes back on. Standing up, she straightened her skirt and started towards the closed door, her cup in her hands.

Trixie stayed long enough to watch Heidi move through the closed door. She stared long and hard at it, almost hoping that if she stared hard enough she could see right through it, and came to the conclusion that the ever-elusive boss had to be behind it. She waited a full minute, wanting to see if Heidi would re-emerge, and then backed out of the office when she didn't. Disappointed, Trixie tossed out the empty carrier as she went, with one last cup in her hand, and retraced her steps until she found herself close to the door that was Jocelyn's office. There was another desk in the room that had been unoccupied since the time Trixie had been at the agency; Jocelyn had merely said that it belonged to a sometimes-partner of hers who was currently away on an assignment. As Trixie came in, she couldn't help but notice that there was a laptop computer flipped open on the other desk and a large cup of something that smelled suspiciously like the worst-brewed coffee she had ever had the pleasure of smelling emanating out of it sat next to it.

"Good afternoon, Trixie!" Jocelyn called out from the row of filing cabinets in the corner of the room. She took out the folder she needed, closed the drawer with more force than necessary, and put the manila folder onto her desk. Going out on an assignment had been wonderful; had been much more exciting than sitting at her desk where the worst thing that could happen to her was a paper cut. The good-natured teasing she had received from some of the other agents had not been appreciated. If she had one more person mention that they were afraid she had been getting rusty from riding a desk, she was going to shoot them. As an expert in that area, she knew where to aim to inflict the most important of pain without causing any life-threatening injuries. "It's good to be back in San Diego. I flew in early this morning and had to come straight here. I haven't been home yet."

"The apartment building is still standing, Jocelyn. Here. Take the tea. I know you like it better than coffee, too." Trixie gave her the hot tea she had ordered for herself since coffee was not one of her favorite drinks and pulled a chair close to Jocelyn's desk. "How did your assignment go?"

Jocelyn's smile carried an edge to it that Trixie couldn't quite decipher. Thinking back on the two weeks where she had posed as a wealthy socialite in order to gain entrance into the elitist society of jolly old England, she responded smoothly, "Very well, Trixie. Everything turned out just the way it should." The thieves who had made a killing out of stealing priceless works of art for the past year from the private collections of the wealthy and the privileged had finally been apprehended, with her assistance. It couldn't have gone better, had shown her how much she missed the action of her job. Mentoring a potential new agent wasn't a horrible assignment but, when she was used to more active and exciting roles, Jocelyn couldn't help but feel that her wings had been clipped the tiniest of bits. Luckily her supervisor had promised her more missions here and there, to help keep her fresh in the field.

"I don't suppose you could tell me about it?" Trixie couldn't help but ask even though she already knew the answer.

"Can't," Jocelyn responded regretfully. It was strictly forbidden to speak of any mission to anyone who was not an insider. Trixie, as well as a few other regular employees at the agency, were not insiders. All regular employees, such as Linda at the front desk, believed the no-talk rule was for the client's protection and had no idea that it had to do with the exact nature of the agency's hidden role. Secrets, secrets, secrets. A true agent had to be exceptionally good at keeping them. "But I can tell you that I'm delighted to be home and back at work. And thanks again for the tea."

"No problem." Trixie settled back in the chair, her overstuffed backpack left at her feet. The effects of three straight morning classes were starting to wear on her. Lectures, all of them. Her eyes popped open while she continued the conversation, "Linda downstairs told me that you were back from wherever it is that you went, doing whatever it is that you needed to do, and that you wanted to see me."

"It's nothing important," Jocelyn assured her swiftly, chuckling at Trixie's amusing description. She sat down in her plush computer chair, put down the container and unobtrusively flicked off her computer screen so that Trixie couldn't see the report she was in the process of completing for her supervisor. "I wanted to check in with you and see how your first two weeks of classes have gone."

"It's not too bad," Trixie said as she tried to get more comfortable in the chair. "I know the campus really well, thanks to the tour you gave me before the university started. I've been able to find all of my classes without any problems. I was surprised to be assigned back to the agency for my first practicum experience, though," she said. And, truth to tell, she had been a little disappointed. It had seemed like all of the students she had talked to had been given assignments that were more exciting than the small private agency. Camp Pendleton. The area police departments and courthouses. Even the campus security office seemed more exciting than her placement. She was the only one that she knew of who had been assigned to a private investigative agency. While knowing the people and the routine of the agency was an added benefit from her summer job, an advantage which most of the other students did not have, she would rather have had a different placement, for the experience of something new.

Jocelyn didn't share that the man every agent answered to had made certain that one Beatrix Belden had been assigned to them and that she wouldn't be assigned to any other place during her schooling at CU. As recently as this morning, he had confided in her that he was still uncertain on how quickly she should be invited into their fold. Part of him wanted her in as soon as possible; the more rational part realized that it wouldn't be feasible until she had at least a year or two under her belt at the university. He wanted her to grow and mature and was leaning more towards the end of her sophomore year. She would be twenty then and would have spent two years away from her family. Jocelyn agreed with him. They would have a chance to build a solid relationship with her, plus trust would have been formed. Pushing aside her complicated thoughts, she inquired again, "And your classes? How are they? Are you happy with them?"

"It's much better than high school," Trixie answered with an exaggerated shiver at the memory of her high school experience. She had done more daydreaming than studying. "And I'm much happier taking courses that are more relevant to me than trigonometry or chemistry. I still think my teachers were pulling my leg when they tried to explain to me that I needed to know the periodic table of elements by heart or that trigonometric functions were extremely important and applicable to the real world." Her chuckle carried a dry sound to it. "Math was not my best subject in school. I probably would never have been able to pass it without…" Her words faltered before she cleared her throat and rushed on, doing her best not to think about the person who had helped her the most, "Without the help of my older brothers and friends."

And therein lay the only real problem she had been able to find with Trixie in the two months she had been mentoring her. Too much family; too many friends; and way too many ties to Sleepyside. It was a hurdle that would have to be overcome if Trixie cared to join them. Jocelyn nodded her head slowly while she catalogued the positives she had witnessed. Trixie had survived two months away from home. She hadn't run back home and seemed to be adjusting well to her new life. Calls were frequent, as were texts and emails, but she hadn't called it quits and she hadn't returned home. Time would tell, Jocelyn realized and hoped that it gave them the best answer possible. "Taking classes that are meaningful is a terrific start. Real life experience is always the best, too," Jocelyn shared with a bright light to her lively brown eyes. Even though she already knew the answer, having helped make the schedule, she voiced the question anyway, "What's your schedule like? Obviously you come here in the afternoons. Three days a week, right?"

"Yes. Only on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I have three back-to-back-to back classes on those days. They are a killer," Trixie bemoaned and lifted her shoulders. "By the end of the third class I'm ready for a nap. I run over here afterwards and stop at that little coffee shop to grab a bite to eat and pick up the orders. Then I'm assigned here from one until four. These are my busiest days. I also have an evening class on Wednesdays which isn't so bad, I guess. It's only one day a week. Tuesdays and Thursdays are my slow days. I only have one class on those days." Trixie's grimace showed how she truly felt. Tuesdays and Thursdays were the toughest days for her to fill in. She could only handle doing so much homework and preparation for her classes. Even with spending time at the beach or exercising at the nearby gym, the two days offered her a little too much time at her apartment where she spent a little too much time alone with her thoughts and, even worse for her equilibrium, her memories.

Through narrowed eyes, Jocelyn caught the implication right away. It was in the way the normal friendly blue eyes went cautious and sad. Frowning, she analyzed it swiftly. Carefully, not wanting Trixie to realize what she had just revealed, she declared evenly, "You know, Trixie, you could always come in here on those days if you want to keep yourself busy. No pressure, of course, if you decide not to. No one would hold it against you if you chose not to, though, or if you had too much coursework to do." She let out an easy laugh, pondered her answer. "You should know by now that we could always use an extra hand."

So far her jobs had entailed filing a never-ending supply of paperwork, converting said paperwork into back-up computer files, shredding paperwork that had been deemed old and useless, and even proof-reading a few incident reports that she had been given the okay to read. It was quite boring. A few extra hours didn't sound all that exciting but it would beat listening to the silence of her apartment. "Sounds good, Jocelyn," she said after a moment of consideration. "I do happen to procrastinate a bit, though. As long as I don't get too far behind on my school work, I'd love to pop in on Tuesdays and Thursdays when I get the chance."

Jocelyn grinned and took a fortifying sip of her tea. It had cooled enough so that it was just right for her. "Thanks for the tea, Trix."

Trixie shrugged a shoulder. "No problem," she answered and slid a curious glance towards the other desk in the room. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask who had taken it over but she kept it to herself. Standing up, she smoothed her hands over her denim shorts and said, "Well, there are a few reports I was asked to go over. I'd better start reading them."

She hadn't realized that her memory was being tested from the information contained within the reports. Jocelyn had found Trixie to have a keen sense for details, even ones that were written in black and white and that she hadn't had the opportunity to physically partake in. "Anything interesting?" she inquired casually. Her knowledge of each and every report that was waiting for Trixie to go over was extensive since she had been the one to select them for her.

"There was an interesting case of a break-in at an apartment over on the other side of town." Trixie placed a hand on her hip and rattled off the address with more ease than she realized. "It was apartment 7-E. The agency was hired to try and track down some of the items that were stolen from the apartment. The most valuable and notable items, of course."

"Hmm. I don't think I'm familiar with the case," Jocelyn lied with only the slightest feeling of guilt. She didn't find it hard to lie to most people. Her job required it. But she was having a devil of a time lying to Trixie. She hated the fact that she had to. "What are we looking for?"

Trixie rattled off the items easily. "We're looking for a jade statue in the shape of an elephant. There's also a watercolor painting by an up-and-coming artist. It's nothing too remarkable or even that valuable but the owner really liked it. He commissioned the artist to paint his sailboat when it was out on the ocean. There's also a silver necklace with a Celtic knot at the base of it. Inside the Celtic knot is a three-carat square cut diamond." She frowned in deep concentration, wracked her brain to come up with the last item, and then snapped her fingers. "Oh! A first edition of _Pride and Prejudice_ is also missing."

"I seem to remember hearing something about the robbery," Jocelyn murmured quietly, accurately ticking off the stolen items in her mind, and pleased that Trixie hadn't missed describing any of the important objects. "Were any of them found?"

"So far, just the statue. It was located in a pawn shop across town." Trixie started to move towards the door and surmised correctly, "I think that's why it's my first assignment today. I have to finish proof-reading the report and then I need to fax off the information to the other agencies around the area that work with us in case one of their investigators were to come across them."

Her progress was halted as the door opened quietly and bit back a small gasp of surprise. A man she had never seen before stood in the doorway with a look on his face that could only be termed inquisitive. He stared right at her out of piercing pale blue eyes, almost as if he was expecting to find something wrong with her. He was tall, muscular, and seemed to take up the entire space of the doorway. Trixie fought the urge to step back and stood her ground, more firmly than she realized. A fleeting look crossed his face; something she couldn't understand or describe. Then it was gone as he smiled charmingly at both of them and came fully into the room.

"I didn't know we had company," he said to Jocelyn, the complete lie rolling off of his lips because he had known full well who the other occupant in the room was. Thinking back to the scholarship application he had read months earlier, he felt an immense amount of satisfaction for 'discovering' her. Even in the few seconds he had sized her up, he had noticed that there was definitely something about her. The potential was there, just as he had felt on that evening so long ago.

Jocelyn chuckled and came around her desk to stand by her partner. It was good to have him back by her side. She was never a fan of going into the field without him at her back because he was the one agent that she had complete and utter faith in. Unfortunately, her last mission had conflicted with one of his and he hadn't been a part of it. And, with her mentoring Trixie, it had been too long since they had worked together. In fact, their last successful mission had been to read over scholarship applications. That, admittedly, had not been fun, exciting or stimulating. At all. Neither one ever wanted to be handed that particular chore again. "Where did you get to, Max?"

He held up a white paper bag. "Doughnuts," he answered, shaking the bag for good measure. "The awful sludge that this place thinks is coffee needed something to help it go down so I ran out to the corner shop around the block for some much-needed sustenance."

Trixie didn't say a thing, only stood there with what she felt like was a stupid smile on her face, surprised that she felt slightly intimidated. It wasn't simply because of the man that Jocelyn called Max. As she studied the two of them together, noted their body language, she suddenly had an odd feeling overcome her. The two seemed dangerous together which didn't make a lick of sense to her at all. Deciding that she was letting her overly active imagination take over for the first time since she had moved to San Diego, she waited patiently for the introduction.

Taking the bag from him, Jocelyn peered into the bag and took out a chocolate éclair. "You remembered, Max! Thanks. This looks delicious," she gushed and reverently placed it on a napkin on her desk. She licked off some of the chocolate from her fingers and giggled. "I'm going to have to run an extra mile or two tonight just to work off the extra calories but it's so going to be worth it."

He threw a lazy grin her way and then turned to face Trixie. "Do you like doughnuts?" he offered politely, including her in the conversation for the first time.

Thirteen-year old Trixie would have stuttered, stammered and turned bright red to have a handsome and strange man post a question to her. Eighteen-year old Trixie, who was learning to stand on her own two feet much quicker than she had anticipated, took a deep, calming breath and murmured, her face nearly its normal color and with only the barest amount of that shade of hideous red she despised showing, "No, thank you. I grabbed a bite to eat before I came to work."

"Oh, you work here," he pretended to infer although he knew as much about her own life as she did. He dropped the bag carelessly on his desk and gave Jocelyn a reproachful look. "You could have told me that, Joss," he reprimanded her.

She glared at the nickname only he was allowed to use and then gave in with ill-grace. It was useless to attempt to correct him. She had learned that over the years of their professional, and personal, relationship. As if by rote, she completed the introduction, "This is Trixie Belden. She's a freshman at California University. She worked here this past summer. We've also been lucky enough to have drawn her for her first practicum placement. We'll be seeing a lot of her through the fall and hopefully next semester, too."

"Trixie Belden," he repeated, remembering the name very well. His shrewd eyes noted the slight differences from the picture that had been in her file. Her skin was tanned a glowing bronze and her hair was streaked with gold; clearly showing that she had spent a lot of time outside over the summer, most likely at the beach. Her curls were as riotous but were longer; they skimmed her shoulders and were pulled back with a plain brown headband. The blue eyes weren't quite as open as they had appeared to be in the photo and the smile on her face wasn't quite as wide or warm. She still appeared to be too trusting and naïve but it wouldn't be too hard to cure her of it, not if she volunteered to join them in their line of work. Liking what he saw, he offered her his hand.

She hesitated before accepting it. He had a hard, firm hand shake, much like…she clamped down on that train of thought, refusing to think about the handsome boy who had offered her his hand in an old, musty, broken-down mansion a few years earlier. "Yes. I'm Trixie," she replied when he seemed to want a response from her.

"Max," he responded with a gallant grin and let go of her hand. "I'm Max Donovan."

Trixie noticed that he placed his hand at Jocelyn's waist afterwards. Becoming more adept at studying human behavior, she wondered if they were more serious than workmates. When Jocelyn shared a small, almost secret smile back up at him, she had a strong feeling that her hunch was correct and started a hasty retreat from the room, wanting to give them time alone. "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Donovan," she said respectfully. "I'm glad that you're back, Jocelyn. I'll be down the hall if you need anything." Then she turned on her heels and walked through the door.

Max watched her go, a petite young woman with a surprising amount of energy, and decided that they had made a great decision. Staring back into Jocelyn's eyes, he could tell that she had the same belief. When the door closed and they were alone, he murmured softly into Jocelyn's ear, "She'll be a good asset, won't she?"

"I liked her the moment I met her," she answered back, humming with approval when he blew gently into her ear. "I can tell that you do, also. I think she'll fit in beautifully…when the time is right," she put in meaningfully, reminding Max that it wasn't their choice to tell Trixie the truth about the agency.

"Any idea on a time frame for her?" With the safety behind a closed door, he pulled her to him and gave in to the need for a long, tight embrace. It had been too long since he had held her; much too long since he had smelled her. Her scent, her soft, subdued scent, which he knew extremely well, flowed around and into him, welcomed him home. It was good to be back, good to be home, and more than good to be back with her.

"Not this school year," she answered, laying her head on his shoulder with a small sigh. "You know our supervisor. He's thinking it would be best to clue her in after she completes her second year at the university. That will give her enough time to grow away from her friends and family and to establish her new life here. He wants her to get acclimated to her new life out here but he doesn't want her to get too acclimated, if you know what I mean."

"You've been keeping a sharp eye out on her," he inferred correctly.

"It hasn't been too hard," Jocelyn replied dryly. "Per our design, she lives on the floor above me in my apartment building. There aren't that many places she goes to yet. She only comes here, to her classes, and to the beach. I managed to convince her that the agency purchases full memberships for all its employees to the gym around the corner from our building so she's started going there instead of to the one on campus. We've met there a few times to work out. She's stronger and has more endurance than I expected. I have a feeling she'll enjoy the challenges of the physical training when it's time. She has some bottled-up emotions that she needs to work through." And those bottled-up emotions were caused by whatever happened between her and her ex-boyfriend.

"Good. She doesn't have any suspicions that she's more than a simple college intern here, does she?" He found it amusing and fleetingly wondered if she would figure it out before it was explained to her. Thinking about the file he had read, he would lay odds down on her. She was too cagey, too smart, and much too good of an investigator. If she ever suspected something was a little off or not quite right, she wouldn't be deterred. She wouldn't stop until she figured it out.

"No." Jocelyn shook her head, sending her dark hair cascading through the air before landing neatly back in its smooth, brown waves. "With Trixie living off campus and her classes carefully chosen for her, it's the agency's hope that she won't have too many interactions with the other students. We're closing ranks around her without her realizing it. We can't hide her away but we have managed to gain a certain amount of control over her."

"And home?" Home was the biggest problem for her. He remembered it well from the information he had read on her. Her family was extensive, as were her list of friends. And, since his memory was excellent, there had also been a boyfriend.

Privy to her cell phone account and able to hack into her computer at any given moment, remorseful for spying on her, she answered with a deep, regretful sigh, "Trixie calls home frequently. She talks to her parents and her younger brother. She also calls her older brothers and her best friend who are moving in this weekend to NYU. They start classes this Monday. Two friends who attend different colleges in New York are also frequent calls, too." One person from her file had only been contacted once, through a text and an email. Both had been sent on the same day, mere minutes apart. A birthday message that had never been replied to. Jim Frayne, Jocelyn realized, the one who Trixie never brought up or discussed. She didn't have a picture of him in her apartment. Come to think of it, she couldn't remember seeing many pictures in Trixie's little apartment. It was a good sign for her future with their agency but not the best sign for Trixie as a member of her family or her close circle of friends.

"Excellent. The break's started," Max proclaimed with a nod of his head. "It's going to be an interesting introduction, though. We've never invited an agent in who had devoted family and friends before." Taking it for granted that Trixie would agree to join them in the end, he mused, "Belden will have a tight line to walk when everything's all said and done. She won't be able to tell her family and friends anything. She'll have to keep it, and us, a secret. Most of us don't have to worry about keeping our jobs a secret from anyone else since we don't have anyone else. It's going to be tougher for her."

"Tell me about it." Since she was in the company of someone who knew her as well as she knew herself, Jocelyn perched on the edge of her desk and took a generous bite out of her éclair. "It could be a detriment; her only detriment, if you ask me. Time will tell, of course. I do like the fact that she appears to be more of a loner now. It's a huge difference from her original profile. Whatever the cause, I'm thankful for it. It will only help her in the future."

"Are you testing her?" He pushed aside a mound of file folders, his large hands catching them before papers spilled out, and sat down next to her. The doughnut tasted amazing, much better than the cup of lukewarm coffee. Testing it, he took another sip and then grimaced before putting the cup back down. It tasted awful but at least it had the necessary amount of caffeine to help kick start his system.

"Simple, non-intrusive tests. Memory only." Jocelyn put down the delicious delicacy. She hadn't expected to feel such an overwhelming amount of guilt over her job with Trixie and hoped that when it came to light what she had done, she would be forgiven. "She doesn't realize it. She doesn't have a clue."

Memory tests were fine and dandy, as were keeping her close and away from the temptation of her home, but he preferred action over anything else. Would she be able to keep her cool if she was put in a potentially dangerous system? Arching an eyebrow, he contemplated the question, running through the various cases she had helped solve from the time she was thirteen years old. The biggest difference between now and then was that she had other people to rely on during her teenage years. She was alone now. He wondered if she could handle something solo. A few possibilities circulated through his mind and started to form and take shape. The trick would be to find one that appeared to be more of a normal event. "Maybe we'll have to try something more active," he mused out loud, tapping his chin and earning a sharp-eyed glance and a muttered oath from Jocelyn.

"Max," Jocelyn said warningly, shaking a chocolate-smudged finger at him. "Don't forget. She's mine."

He merely smiled back at her, a soft, gloating grin that made her grit her teeth in frustration. It was a look she had seen often enough. "You're doing a terrific job with her so far, Joss," he assured her before hopping off her desk and walking over to his. Waking up his computer, he sat down, the bag of doughnuts forgotten on his desk, and started to type. "I'll be glad to offer my assistance in any way that I can."

"I should have known," she complained under her breath. Jocelyn wiped off her fingers and found her own computer with a frown on her face. She stared at him out of the corner of her eyes but couldn't get a read on him. He was obviously amused and wasn't anywhere ready to share his ideas. Practically snarling at him, she gave up and wondered what he had planned for Trixie. She didn't have a doubt in her mind that her charge would pass any test he gave her with flying colors. Trixie had too much promise to her.


	34. Chapter 34

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Thirty-Three

When her third straight morning class on Wednesday was over, Trixie bounced out of the door, into the bright sunny afternoon. Well ahead of the other students as usual, she was more than ready to release her pent-up energy from sitting for three straight hours and listening to lecture after lecture. She grabbed her lunch out of her backpack, a granola bar, and inhaled it during her walk across campus and towards the coffee shop. Her cell phone let out a merry chirp, announcing a new text message. Intrigued, she glanced down, saw that she had a few lunch orders to pick up from the shop along with her normal order, and cocked an eyebrow. A sandwich sounded good, she thought as her stomach rumbled lowly at the thought. Much better than a granola bar. She'd grab one for herself, she decided with a nod and took off towards the sidewalk. A few classmates from her first class waved to her as she passed them by. Trixie acknowledged them with a smile but kept on going, intent on fulfilling her job at ordering the lunches.

The small corner shop was usually bustling during the lunch hour. Not today. It was surprisingly empty. Thinking she must have hit an unexpected lull in the day, she joined the line that was only two people deep instead of its normal five or six, went over her orders in her head so that she wouldn't miss a single item, and called up the text again to recheck the new orders. When the first person's order was taken care of, she obediently took a small step forward and become number two in line, inwardly groaning at the amount of sandwiches the new customer was ordering. It was good manners instilled in her by her mother that made her resist the urge to roll her eyes at the added wait and complexity of the order.

Waiting, and not very patiently, she took notice of the young couple who left the counter with matching cups of French vanilla cappuccinos, talking, laughing and with eyes only for each other. They were obviously students of the local university since they were wearing California University T-shirts and they were obviously in love. They each had an arm wrapped around the other's waist. Her eyes saddened as she bit back a sigh at the small sting of jealousy. It hadn't been that long ago that it would have been Jim with his arm around her. She touched her shoulder, almost feeling the pressure of his arm on her, and then did her best to overlook those thoughts and memories. There had been no contact made at all between the two of them since she had moved to San Diego. She instigated a few attempts through non-verbal ways for his birthday over a month ago but she hadn't taken the plunge and actually called him. Not surprising, he hadn't responded to her birthday messages or hadn't attempted to call her. She didn't know much about him since none of the other Bob-Whites ever brought him up when she conversed with them and she never, ever asked about Jim. The wound was too fresh, too painful, and hadn't even come close to starting to heal.

Distracted by her potent and powerful thoughts, it hardly registered on her when the little bell above the door chimed, announcing a new customer. She caught a motion out of the corner of her eye as someone took the next available spot behind her. Not paying the newcomer much attention, she concentrated on rehearsing her numerous orders and moved forward, excited that the person with a zillion sandwiches had finally been taken care of and had moved off to the side to accept her orders.

Ready to give her lunch orders to the clerk, she was suddenly and rudely interrupting from behind. Trixie let out a sharp gasp when she felt an unwelcome and forceful hand at the center of her back. The next thing she knew she was pushed into the counter ahead of her. Her hands came out in time to stop her head from banging against the smooth glass that blocked the customers from the food resting temptingly behind it. As she stared at the deliciously-looking strawberry shortcake piled high with strawberries and whipped cream in front of her, disbelieving, her eyes large, frightened, and tinged with a growing amount of anger at the unexpectedness of the rough treatment, Trixie fought back a wave of panic. Breathing hard, she steadied herself, her face a portrait of shock, and schooled her features the best that she could.

A gruff voice ignored her presence and obvious distress. A hand grabbed her arm, shoving her farther off to the side. The owner growled low at the clerk whose nametag declared that her name was Lottie. "Your money. All you've got. I want it. Now," he growled low and threateningly. He pulled out a gun, pointed it at the terrified clerk, and waited for her to comply with a terrifyingly blank expression on his face.

Trixie gathered her wits about her, rapidly searching through her mind for the best way to handle the situation. Seeing that he was armed and much stronger than she was, she cautiously moved off to the side and did the only thing she could do right now. Her eyes and her mind were her only weapons so she looked hard, trying to capture any information about him that she could, and retained every significant detail. She covertly stared at the hand resting firmly on her forearm. Left hand, she noted clinically, with a tattoo decorating the underside of the wrist. She started to memorize the pattern. A sword, outlined in black ink, with no colors filling it in. Simple enough to recognize; probably a dime a dozen from the tattoo parlor that had etched it into his skin. A few added details around it made it stand out. In the precious few seconds she got to look at it, Trixie noted that there was a sign that looked like the infinite sign wrapped around the handle and there were a few letters going up the blade, italicized and minuscule. _C. D_…He flicked his wrist over before she was able to catch the last one and dropped her arm. Interested, her heart racing, she stared up at his profile, noted that he had short cropped blonde hair and dark, unfriendly brown eyes. There was a small scar on the side of his forehead. She took all of this in the exceedingly slow minute it took the frightened clerk to hand over the pitiful amount of cash in the register.

"Is this all?" he demanded angrily, staring down at the wad of cash with a glower on his face and his eyebrows drawn together in a frightening frown.

"Yes…yes," stammered Lottie, the clerk, her face white and strained, and visibly shaking with the stress of the ordeal. She cleared her throat and managed to utter, "I…I can't get you the rest. It's…oh, God…it's locked in the back. Manager. He's…only the manager has the key. He won't be back until tomorrow…I'm sorry. There's…I can't do anything else for you." She came to a sputtering stop, having never been through something like this before.

Shrugging in resignation, he stuffed the cash he had been given into his pocket. It looked like he was going to demand more before he decided that he didn't have the time. "It'll have to do. Don't follow me," he ordered the others roughly in the shop, showing his gun to all inside, and took off in a sprint towards the back of the store. He left behind a trio of disbelieving people; Lottie, Trixie and the customer who had finished ahead of her.

"Well, I never," Lottie mumbled under her breath, pressing a hand to her rapidly beating heart. She stared out of frightened and relieved eyes at the two customers and fell back against the wall behind the counter. Her fingers shook as she reached for the phone to make the necessary call for help. Almost as if of their own accord, her hands came out and closed the drawer of the cash register. "I need to report a robbery," she said into the phone in a trembling voice.

Trixie didn't wait to hear anymore. Now that her feet weren't glued to the floor any longer, she left her post by the counter and swiftly followed in the footsteps of the thief, going through the small hallway that led through the shop and into the back. Having no intentions of following a man with a gun, she moved slowly and stealthily. She only wanted to see which way he went, to hopefully give more information to the police. The back door was flung wide open, was swinging in the breeze. She raced towards it and had a glimpse of him as he ran down the alley, away from the store, and then rounded the corner, off to the right. Committing his path to memory, she hurried back inside the store where two harried and weary-looking police officers had just entered, responding in record time to Lottie's frantic phone call for help. They pulled out small notebooks and began the tedious process of taking down notes from the eye witnesses of the robbery.

Trixie was halted with a sudden memory. The scene was so familiar, achingly so. It wasn't a coffee shop in San Diego she was remembering. Instead, it was a small country store, out in the middle of nowhere, and her best friend in the entire world had been dreadfully hurt in it. And, she admitted regretfully, so had she. That single action had changed so much in her life, had shown her cracks in a foundation she had believed to be solid. It had crumbled so fast, so quick, she still had trouble comprehending it. Focusing on the incident at Mr. Lytell's store, not on the other, more heartbreaking change, she recalled her feelings of helplessness, how she had been powerless to assist the police with anything. The memory bit into her bitterly, as did the aftermath it had caused. She hadn't been able to help then but, she thought with a militant gleam to her eyes, she could certainly help now. Squaring her shoulders, she entered the scene and waited impatiently for her turn to give the information she had learned to the police officers.

An hour later, with two bags filled to the brim with free lunches and a carrier overflowing with drinks for the people at the agency, Trixie finally came back out into the warm California sunshine. The door to the coffee shop closed behind her, its tinkling bell giving her a cheery goodbye. She didn't have any lingering feelings of panic or fright; hadn't had any since she had overcome her fear and had focused on getting a description of the perpetrator. She held onto the bags and drinks, her feet eating up the sidewalk as she walked the short distance towards the agency and looked forward to sharing her story with the employees within. She quickly handed out the lunches and the drinks, offered her truthful excuse to many interested and concerned people who had wondered what had happened to her and to their lunches. With three sandwiches and drinks remaining, she found her way to her last destination: Jocelyn's office. Why she waited to tell Jocelyn last, she couldn't tell, but she had. Somehow she knew that the telling would take longer with Jocelyn.

She glanced up from her computer the second Trixie opened the door. Her mouth dropped open in shock when she got a good look at her. "Trixie!" she exclaimed, popping out of her chair, her report forgotten. She hurried around her desk and asked, concerned and astonished, "What on earth happened to you?"

Flushed from the exertion, feeling amazingly exhilarated by the experience, Trixie practically poured herself into the chair by Jocelyn's desk and thoughtlessly placed the container with the beverages on it on the edge. When it looked like they may tip over at the tiniest of movements, Max left his desk and reached over. He helpfully pushed the container over until it resided more securely in the middle of the desk and accepted the brown bag from Trixie. Keeping a set of eyes on both of the women in the room, he started pawing through the bag and took out his lunch.

"What happened?" Jocelyn questioned again, more sharply this time. She exchanged a glance with Max who seemed to be more interested in his lunch than in Trixie's tardiness. A light bulb brilliantly flashed in her mind. She knew, she just knew, that he had something to do with the reason behind her charge's unexpected arrival in their office. Her pretty face hardened when he avoided meeting her eyes, opened up his three-decker smoked turkey and cheese sandwich and took a healthy bite. She glared at him when he took a sip from his cup of coffee. Her glare only deepened when he sniffed in appreciation.

Trixie missed the byplay between the two. "I'm sorry I'm late," she began, running a hand through her riotous curls, and carefully placed her backpack at her feet. She sucked in a deep breath, wondered how she should start, while words eluded her. For some reason she couldn't fathom it was harder telling Jocelyn and, consequently, Max. Deciding it could be because Jocelyn was her acting supervisor for the university or because she spent the most time with her, it felt different than the abbreviated versions she had given the others. She would go extremely in-depth with them, the same way she would have with…Honey, she thought with a small pang.

Max held up his hand. He could practically feel the venom Jocelyn wanted to aim his way. "Give her a moment, Joss. Let her collect her thoughts," he murmured lowly under his breath. He studied Belden carefully, was pleased to note that she wasn't terrified or overly upset by the encounter he had helped to instigate. She hadn't fainted or become immobilized. Instead, she looked energized and excited. Curious about what she was going to tell them, he shifted a lean hip onto the edge of the desk and planted an encouraging smile on his lips.

Trixie put her hands on her knees to keep them from shaking. From fear or excitement, she couldn't tell. "It happened at the little coffee shop I stop in before I come into work. You know, the one where the agency has its own account?" she put in in an aside, just in case they didn't realize where she always shopped for the agency's orders, and felt stupid, realizing that they had had to know where the food and drinks always came from. She stared down at her sneakered feet and swallowed a groan of disappointment with herself.

It was no longer murky, was starting to become clearer to Jocelyn. When Trixie bent her head, her frown intensified. Max, the recipient, smiled sheepishly back at her and proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had masterminded the whole ordeal with a curt nod of his handsome head. By the smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips, she could tell that he was more than pleased with himself. Overlooking her annoyance with him, she turned back to Trixie. "What happened at the coffee shop, Trixie?" she repeated for the third time, her voice calm and soothing, and her eyes flashing with irritated ire at Max, who was frustrating her further by hiding behind his steaming cup of coffee. "You can tell us. We want to know."

Lifting her head, Trixie readied herself to tell her story, unaware that she was being intentionally trained to give a full report on her events, as required by all agents, and was being lead through it by two seasoned pros. "It was just like any other day in the store. I was waiting in line to order behind a customer who placed the biggest order ever when another customer entered behind me. He seemed like a normal customer. He stood in line, just like the rest of us." Then she leaned forward and shared dramatically, her words coming out on a rush and rising with excitement, "And then, right when I was about to order, he pushed me forward, right into the counter. Of course he pulled out a gun. He pointed it right at Lottie and demanded that she give him all of the money in the register right then and there."

Jocelyn's eyes narrowed into small slits while she wondered who the 'robber' had been. Trying to catch Max's eyes, she reluctantly gave up when he refused to cooperate. Dropping down next to Trixie, she grabbed her hand and held on tight. "Trixie, that's just awful," she murmured sympathetically. "I'm so sorry that you had to go through something like that."

"Awful," Max repeated in the same sympathetic tone although there was a spark to his eyes that Trixie didn't see and that had Jocelyn gritting her teeth in renewed annoyance. Trixie, and the other witnesses within the store, hadn't been in any real danger. His friend and fellow agent wouldn't have hurt anyone in the shop. He had been there merely to fulfill a request of Max's. Judging from the story Trixie was telling, the request had been completed beautifully. Now he wanted to find out how she had responded to the situation. "What did you do, Trixie?" Max asked in his deeper voice.

"Unfortunately, not much," she breathed out, shaking her head. Her curls tangled with the movement. She brushed back a set that flopped over her forehead and released a pent-up breath of air. Years of lectures by Sergeant Molinson and many loved ones had finally come in handy. "I hate to admit it but I stayed put, right up at the counter, and didn't try to stop him. While it would have been nice to have tried, I knew better. It would have been too dangerous. He was bigger and, well, he had a gun. I did the only thing I could. I studied him so that I could give a report to the police. I even followed him after he left, too. The police had a general idea in the direction he had gone."

Impressed with her answer, Max nodded once in appreciation. She wouldn't have stood a chance had she decided to interfere. Of course, his friend had been under orders not to hurt her, or anyone else, but Trixie didn't know it. It also showed that one of her weaknesses, her impulsivity, could be contained during a serious situation. Thinking back to his friend and fellow agent, he encouraged her to give them a description, "Tell us more, Trixie. What did he look like?"

Trixie closed her eyes and saw him perfectly in her mind. "He was tall, taller than me. Short, cropped blonde hair. Dark brown eyes. They were kind of narrow and small. He had a small scar on his forehead. He was wearing a baggy, black shirt and a pair of old blue jeans." She went quiet for a minute, allowing her memory to take over again. "He also had a tattoo on his right…no, his left wrist," she corrected herself hastily, unaware that Jocelyn's face revealed her surprise. She tapped the underside of her wrist to show them where the tattoo was. "The tattoo was a little unusual. After I told the cops about it, they asked me to draw a quick sketch of it for them so that they could add it to the report."

Jocelyn pushed a piece of paper and a black pen towards her, curious herself to see what Trixie remembered, and willing to overlook her frustrations with her partner until they were alone. She would gladly share them with him then. "Are you artistic?" she wondered aloud.

She shook her head, sending her curls dancing. "No, not very. My friend Di is, though. If she were here, she would be able to make a perfect copy of it, just from my description. She is extremely talented," Trixie answered with a short and proud laugh. Knowing what Jocelyn wanted her to do, she picked up the pen and sketched the tattoo quickly, the exact way she had done for the police. Taking a minute to survey it when she was finished, Trixie was satisfied with it and handed it over to Jocelyn. "This isn't a perfect copy of it since my drawings look more like something a kindergartener might do but it will help you get the picture. The tattoo looked something like this."

"Nice drawing. This will definitely help the police out." Suspicions confirmed, aware of the exact identity of the 'thief', Jocelyn handed the drawing over to Max, who hid another grin behind a feigned look of surprise. Turning back to Trixie, she informed her, "Even though we're only a private investigative agency, we still have many contacts in the police department who would be willing to look out for the owner of this tattoo. I'm going to hand it a copy of your sketch over to them. Maybe it will help them." The cops didn't have a chance in hell but she didn't offer that to Trixie. If they caught him, he would be let go in a matter of minutes. Their agents basically had free reign and could do pretty much anything the agency deemed necessary, even if it was outside of the normal law. However, it would be a nuisance to have every available police officer out on the look-out. She didn't think their friend was going to appreciate it too much.

"That would be wonderful." Trixie's eyes briefly shone with the excitement she always got when she helped solve a mystery. Then the blue lost its luster. Staring at the two people in front of her, two very nice and friendly people who she enjoyed working with, Trixie couldn't help but wish that the Bob-Whites were by her side instead. A foolish wish but a true wish nonetheless. "Anyway, that's the reason why I'm late," Trixie declared, out of breath. "I couldn't help it. I'm sorry."

"No one blames you for being late. It's not going to effect the rating we give you at the end of the semester, either. There's no need for you to apologize at all." But Jocelyn's frown clearly meant that there was a need for someone else in the room to and as soon as they were alone. "In fact, I think it would be fine if you wanted to go back to your apartment. You may want to recuperate there instead of putting your time in here. It couldn't have been a fun incident for you."

Trixie shrugged it off. It hadn't been the most pleasant of times but she was fine now. She wasn't shaking anymore and it had felt good, unbelievably good, to have helped out the police officers who had interviewed the witnesses. One of the officers had even commented on her description of the perpetrator and had told her that he wished all of his witnesses could be gifted with her attention to detail. He had flattered her further by saying that it would make his job much easier. Flustered, Trixie had only been able to stammer out a muted thank-you to the experienced officer. "I wouldn't call it fun or enjoyable but it was definitely the most interesting experience I've had since I moved out here." Trixie stood up, her legs supporting her without any aftereffects from the ordeal, and she walked confidently to the doorway. Glancing back at Jocelyn and Max, she shared almost as an after-thought, "Although I don't think I'm going to tell my family about the robbery. They wouldn't like to hear it. It would only make them worry."

After she left and the two were alone, Jocelyn didn't waste another second. She whirled around and started stalking Max, her face set in lines of frustrated anger, while he hastily put down his half-eaten sandwich and walked backwards, away from the mound of fury coming his way. "What the hell were you thinking?" she hissed out, finally cornering him by his desk, and punctuating each spoken word with a finger jab to his chest.

He raised his eyebrows, unperturbed by her display of anger, and rubbed the sore spots on his chest from her perfectly manicured finger. "You don't need to ask me that. You already know the answer. It was the little test I talked to you about the other day," he proclaimed, overlooking her question and refusing to be defensive. "We need to discover more about her other than if she has a good memory. You know that. I know that. Our boss knows that. If she's going to be invited into our agency, we need to know more about her and her reactions. I wanted to see how she would handle herself in an emergency situation."

"So you put her at the scene of a robbery?" She was incredulous, her face mired in shock. "If something had gone wrong, she could have been hurt. The others in the coffee shop could have been hurt. Damn it, Max! Our agent could have been hurt." Taking a deep breath, she repeated, "Since it seems like I'm stuck repeating everything I say today, I'll even ask it again. What the hell were you thinking, Max?"

Ignoring her question, he placated her gently, hoping to smooth out her ruffled feathers, by rubbing a hand up and down her rigid back, "No one got hurt, Joss. Trixie handled herself beautifully. She did what she needed to do for the situation. She didn't attempt to take him down or put herself and the others in the store within harm's way. She stayed quiet and still. She didn't play Dirty Harry and she followed the only avenue available to her. She memorized his features and found two identifying marks on him: his scar and his tattoo. She followed to see which way he went and she gave one hell of a description to the police."

"She gave such a good description that our man Shane is going to have to lay low or move out of the area for awhile," she retorted sarcastically, holding up the drawing of the tattoo and shaking it under his nose. "The police are going to be all over him now if they find him. He's not going to be very happy about it when you tell him," she said pointedly. There was no way she was going to break the news to Shane. Having recently returned from a mission halfway across the world, he had told her only yesterday how happy he was to be back in San Diego. It looked like his happiness wasn't going to last that long.

"Yeah, well, I didn't expect her to catch all of those details." He winced a little and wondered how Shane was going to take the news that the San Diego Police Department was going to be hot on his trail. He chuckled, thinking about their fellow agent, and felt a stab of remorse. Being gifted with a quick sense of humor and a desire to even out any score, Max recognized the fact that Shane would do whatever he could to get back at him when the opportunity presented itself.

Jocelyn gradually stepped back from him and dropped her hands from her hips, her fury evaporating slowly into the thinnest of air. "It's lucky for you that we've worked together for so long, Max," she murmured quietly, wagging a finger at him. "Otherwise I might be seriously angry with you."

From years of training and working together, he knew how to work around her anger. Satisfied that she didn't want to throttle him any longer or do something even worse to him, he gave her a smug grin and remarked, "Let's forget about Shane and concentrate on our girl. Belden came through the ordeal with flying colors, didn't she?"

"She certainly did," Jocelyn admitted truthfully and with an intense amount of pride she hadn't expected to feel for her charge or, more accurately, their charge. She should have expected the fact that Max would adopt her as his own, too. They did as much as they possible could together. Flopping down in her chair, she picked up a pen and started flicking its top. Open, close, open, close. After about ten clicks, she met his gaze and inquired innocently, "So, what are your next plans for Trixie?"

"I happen to have a few," he retorted, flashing his white teeth in a grin. "But they need to be perfected. You don't need to worry, though. I'll be glad to share them with you ahead of time. Plus I've already received clearance from our boss to do whatever is necessary with Belden as long as we don't drive her screaming from the building or send her packing on the next plane home. She'll be fine."

Jocelyn laughed delightedly and leaned back in her chair, a huge smile adorning her face. Training Trixie was going to be more fun than she had anticipated. She shouldn't have been surprised. Max always managed to make things much more entertaining. Winking at him, she remarked dryly, "I can't wait to see what else _we_ can come up with to help prepare Trixie for her new job with our agency."

His lightning quick grin flashed again at her use of we. Understanding the slight sting of the reprimand behind it, he gave in gracefully. "We always do our best work when we are together." Jocelyn's hearty laugh of agreement could be heard on the other side of the door.

Unaware that she was being discussed, and at length, Trixie completed her work as competently as usual, without any fear over the incident. Right before four o'clock, she cleaned up her work space and slipped her cell phone out of her backpack. Contemplating it, she wondered if she should call Honey to let her know what had happened to her. It took only a second for her to decide against it. It was too similar to Honey's experience in Mr. Lytell's store. Honey still didn't have any memories of the short, horrifying span of time in the store. Trixie didn't want to do anything to bring out her remembering it. She slipped the cell phone into her backpack, missing the times when Honey was the first person she shared her mysterious and exciting events with, and briefly closed her eyes. Giving herself a pep-talk, refusing to give into the need for a pity party, she gave her work space one last cursory glance and shouldered her backpack. She didn't stop in to see anyone on her way out of the office. Instead, she walked swiftly to the front door, lost in thoughts that had nothing to do with the robbery.

As she left the building, she noticed a dark green sedan pull up to the small parking lot that the customers utilized. Pausing on the edge of the sidewalk, she watched inquisitively as a man left the car and walked with deliberate steps towards the building. At first she thought he was a client but, when he didn't veer off to use the front entrance, she changed her mind. Instead, he headed around to the back of the building, out of her sight. Even though she didn't get a good look at his features, something about him tugged at the edges of his mind. He seemed familiar, somehow. Placing him was beyond her. It was a vague, vague memory, one that refused to take shape, and had happened years before.

A car horn beeped loudly, startling her as much as the driver of the car sitting in front of the light that had turned to green, texting away on her cell phone. Trixie smiled at herself, feeling foolish for being caught up in her overly active imagination, and shook away the fanciful feeling. Blaming it on the events of the day, she continued down the sidewalk, her steps long and deliberate until she came to the coffee shop. She paused to look in through the window. Everything was back to normal. It was busy and the people inside looked happy and content. It didn't seem like a store that had been robbed only a few hours earlier. Trixie moved on, her pace slower and reflective, until she reached her apartment.

After unlocking the front door, her cell chirped happily. Grateful for the distraction, wondering who could be calling her, she fumbled for it and flipped it open with a flourish, forgetting to check the caller id. "Hello?" she breathed out.

"Hello to you," a cheerful voice replied back.

"Mart!" Trixie answered delightedly. Her backpack fell to the floor in a haphazard heap while she flopped down onto her comfortable sofa. Twirling a curl around her finger, happy that her brother had called, she declared, "It's so good to hear from you. How is your first week back at school going?"

It would have been better had she been at school with him. He wisely kept the thought to himself, not wanting to say something that would hurt her. "I'm adjusting," he answered, his words saying more than she realized. While it would be a long time before he came to grips with her choice to move, he was starting to become used to it. Adjusting, just like he said. "It's the end of our third day. I like my classes. I'm taking a few this year in photography and journalism." Then his even white teeth flashed. "I have to admit that I really like having Di in the same city with me, too. It makes college life even more interesting." And he loved the fact that there weren't any parents around to watch over their every move, he admitted to himself with a wolfish grin.

Trixie giggled, thinking back to her phone call with Di two nights earlier. She was just as happy to be living in the same city as her boyfriend. "She was very excited about the start of her first week, too. I talked to her on Monday. She loves her art courses."

"Di has already volunteered to help me with my photography class. She's going to be the best model in the class." Mart rocked back in his chair, a textbook lying forgotten on his lap, and felt his smile slip off his face. It took an effort, as it always did when he brought up her new address, but he managed to ask the question without faltering, "How is California?"

"It's sunny," she replied, glancing out her window and appreciating the weather. "Plus it's beautiful. I wasn't able to make it down to the beach today, though. I try to get there as often as I can. It's so peaceful. Sometimes I like to sit and watch the water. Other times I wade in. I've even started running on the beach, which is much harder than it looks." She laughed nervously, knowing that Mart did not truly want to know about the nuances of her new life. "I was too busy today with classes and the agency, plus I have my last class of the day in about two hours," she bemoaned with a groan. Her evening class on Wednesday was the hardest one for her to dredge up any energy for. It was too late and her mind simply refused to function during it.

"I'm glad I caught you now," Mart remarked. He closed his textbook and dropped it on the top of his desk. He was always astonished at how easy it was to talk to Trixie on the phone. He had thought it would be harder. Instead, it felt like she was in the next room instead of countless states away.

"Di is the last person I talked to. I haven't been able to connect with anyone else. I've played text tag with Honey and Brian over the past two days. I hope to catch them tonight or tomorrow." Inhaling deeply, she posed the question swiftly, "How is everyone doing?"

With their almost-twin connection, Mart understood her immediately. She wasn't asking about Brian, Honey, Dan or Di. She was really asking about Jim, without bringing his name up. He frowned into the phone, his eyes thin slits. While he still wasn't on the best of terms with one Jim Frayne and was still struggling with Trixie's choice to leave himself, he had progressed to the point where he was able to be in the same room with Jim without displaying any feelings of animosity. They were civil but that was the best he could say. They simply never talked about Trixie, the same way he and Trixie never talked about Jim. "Everyone's fine," Mart finally answered, taking the easy way out. He wasn't going to bring up Jim's name. "And busy. Dan started back to Syracuse this week, too. He's enjoying his classes but missing the Bob-Whites. Brian and Honey are about as inseparable as a new couple can be. It's nauseating, let me tell you," he added, making her laugh.

"It sounds like the way you and Di were…wait, it sounds like the way you and Di still are!" Trixie joked playfully.

"Yeah, yeah," Mart grumbled under his breath good-naturedly. It was on the tip of his tongue to add that Trixie and Jim had been the worst of the three couples when they had started dating but he couldn't bring that up, not without hurting his sister. Sighing, he glanced at his watch. "I have a class this evening, too, Trix, so I'm going to have to go in a minute. I wanted to check in with you, make certain you were okay."

She tilted her head to the side, surprised by his words. He hadn't said anything like that to her since she had moved. She wondered if he had realized something unusual had happened to her. They were so close; sometimes it felt like they could read each other's mind. However, she didn't tell him about the robbery, not wanting to add any more worries to him. She was going to keep it to herself. "I loved hearing from you, Mart," she declared quietly.

"Don't be a stranger, Trix," he replied with more force than necessary. "Call. Anytime."

"Same to you," Trixie murmured into the phone. After they disconnected, she sat on her sofa for a long time, staring off into nothingness. Images of her home, her family, and her friends traipsed in front of her eyes, as they did whenever she thought, really thought, about them. Sighing, Trixie picked up a pillow and hugged it to her chest. Moving away had been harder than she had ever expected it to be. Worse, she still didn't know if it had been the right choice for her, even now, after she had settled in.

A knock on her door startled her. Trixie came of the sofa and opened the door after she checked the peep-hole. "Jocelyn!" she exclaimed, surprised to see her neighbor at her door.

Jocelyn studied Trixie, noted that she looked paler than she had at the office, and decided that she had made the right decision. Getting her out of the apartment was the best thing to do. "Come on, Trix," she said encouragingly, smiling easily. "Grab what you need. We're going out tonight."

Trixie drew back, prepared to decline the offer. "Umm, I can't, Jocelyn. I have a class this evening," she protested weakly, not really desiring to go to the class. Another lecture. In another classroom. With another big, thick textbook. She couldn't dredge up one ounce of excitement for it.

Lifting her eyebrows, Jocelyn laughed and called her on the carpet. "Come on, Trixie. Tell me the truth. Were you actually planning on going to it?"

Trixie gave up the pretense without a second thought. A muddle of mixed emotions, she hadn't acknowledged the fact that she had already decided to skip her class. She wouldn't have been able to concentrate anyway. "I guess not," she answered with a wry grin at herself. "Too much happened today. I don't think I'd be able to sit through the class."

"Come on," Jocelyn repeated, knowing that Trixie needed some way to release the emotions that had been brought on by the fact that she had witnessed a robbery. Judging by the slight sparkle of unshed tears in her eyes, she had already shared an emotional call home. She waited until Trixie had her keys in her hand. As Trixie locked the door to her apartment, Jocelyn shared, "We're meeting Heidi. She didn't want to be left out."

"Where are we going?" Trixie inclined her head to the side.

"Do you like sushi?" Jocelyn chuckled uproariously at the horrified expression on Trixie's face. "No, I'm just kidding, Trixie! We're only going to hang out, just the three of us. I have a feeling that you need it."

Trixie smiled her thanks and fell into step behind the older woman. Jocelyn kept up a steady stream of chatter the entire way, allowing Trixie to make only small answers. By the time they reached the small bar and restaurant a few blocks from their apartment building, she was feeling much better and more like herself. She greeted Heidi cheerfully and slipped into the spot next to her at the booth. Deciding to enjoy the unexpected time out, thinking that it was much better than sitting inside a classroom crowded with other students or sitting inside her apartment, alone, Trixie grinned at them. It wasn't Sleepyside. They weren't Honey or Di. But they were nice and they obviously wanted to help her forget about what had happened at the coffee shop. Appreciating the effort they were making for her sake, she joined in the joyful chatter, feeling as if she was finally starting to make new friends in California. She found it odd that a robbery had helped her start to break down the barriers she had unintentionally kept up. It was a start.


	35. Chapter 35

**Breakaway **

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Thirty-Four

Pounding up the steps to the small student apartment he shared with Brian, Jim mentally ran through the information he needed to share with his college advisor at their meeting the next morning. He had been looking forward to the meeting since classes had started on Monday. It had been his bad luck that his advisor wasn't free to meet with him until Friday morning. Concentrating on his thoughts, he didn't hear the soft sound of laughter coming through the closed door. He fumbled for his keys, managed to drop them on the floor because his mind was on other things, and reached down to pick them up. Cursing himself out lowly for his clumsiness, he fitted the key in the door and opened it.

A blushing Honey and a smiling Brian greeted him from the sofa. There was a respectable amount of distance between them but Jim, not being stupid or naïve, immediately realized that there hadn't been a few seconds earlier. It wasn't hard to figure out what he had interrupted. Barely resisting the impulse to roll his eyes, he greeted them with a short, "Hey, guys," and refused to feel embarrassed for interrupting their private moment. He sniffed the air and smelled something that reminded him of…pizza. His stomach growled lowly in response, reminding him he hadn't eaten a thing since the ham sandwich he had crammed down before his first afternoon class. "Pizza?" he asked hopefully, lifting his eyebrows.

"That's my brother," Honey joked playfully, hoping to get a laugh out of him. He hadn't laughed nearly as much as usual in the time Trixie had moved away from them. In fact, she didn't hear his laugh often anymore. It bothered her, as had the fact that he had chosen to spend the entire summer in his apartment in the city instead of in Sleepyside. It had been an unusual summer, with both of their co-presidents not in attendance. She wasn't the only Bob-White who hadn't liked it. As she stared at Brian, she was extremely thankful he had finally made a move and had asked her out. It had been the highlight of her summer. She didn't know what she would have done without him. "You see, Brian? He is a man of many words."

Jim chuckled wryly and dropped his overstuffed backpack on the floor by the sofa where it landed with a loud thump. Grateful for some way of extracting himself from the obviously happy and in love couple, he gestured towards the small kitchen only a thin wall away. "Stay right here. I'll go check and see what's in the kitchen myself."

Whistling under his breath, he made his way to the tiny kitchen that was just large enough to hold a small refrigerator, a stove, and a card table with two folding chairs. Just as his nose had predicted, a pizza box sat out invitingly on the table. He didn't waste another moment before lifting the top and pulling out one of the two remaining pieces. Taking a bite, he opened the refrigerator and grabbed a can of soda. The pizza was finished in record time. Before he left, he eyed the other piece and frowned, wondering if it would be proper etiquette to take it before the other two had a chance to eat. Deciding his hunger had been abated for the moment, he left it in the box. There was always later, he figured with a slow grin.

He made as much noise as he possibly could on the short walk back to the living room just in case he should happen to come in on his best friend and his sister in a position he would rather not catch them in. He had quickly learned to not tread lightly around the two. Coming across them once in a heated embrace had been enough. It had been the equivalent of having his eyes scalded with hot, burning water. Oh, the horror. It had been extremely embarrassing for all three of them. He never hoped to witness it again. It was even worse because he had expected to be the one making his roommate feel uncomfortable during the school year. He had never thought it would be the other way around. "Thanks for dinner," he mumbled after taking a sip of the caffeinated soda and leaned against the wall.

"No problem, Jim. We had a feeling you would like some pizza, too," Honey replied with a gentle smile. Neither had vacated the sofa. They were both just as comfortable as they could be, only inches apart, with Honey's hand safely sandwiched in-between Brian's larger one. They stared at each other with matching grins that Jim termed in his mind as stupid and mindless.

Jim couldn't help but note that the two hadn't lost the special spark that all new couples carried. While it was nice to see, he felt nauseated by it. It was too sweet, kind of like eating a triple-decker chocolate cake, followed by three scoops of chocolate ice cream, and then topped off with a full glass of the sweetest lemonade ever concocted. Sugar shock, for sure. He briefly contemplated if it had been like that when he and Trixie had first started dating. The smile on his face froze at the thought and all expression drained away as it always did when he thought about Trixie. He did his best not to let memories of her in but it was an extremely tough feat, especially since he roomed with her brother and his sister was her best friend. Reminders of her were everywhere, whether they were tangible or intangible. Even though it had been a few months since she had moved away, he wasn't used to it; seriously doubted if he would ever become used to it. He hadn't been able to fully accept her decision. And he practically felt insane anytime he tried to figure out why she had left in such a startling way, out of the clear blue, and without talking to him about it before hand. His comprehension skills were not that good. "It was great pizza," Jim responded after a moment when Honey looked like she was about to prod him for something else to say. He stared meaningfully as Brian moved his hand to rest comfortably on Honey's knee.

Having been in the position of having his best friend date his sister, Brian understood how awkward it could be. There had been moments during Jim and Trixie's relationship when all he had wanted to do was rip his own eyes out. Giving Honey's knee a squeeze, he stood up and informed him, "You had a message from your advisor, Jim. He was confirming your meeting with him for tomorrow morning." He looked at Jim expectantly, waiting for a reason why he would need to meet with his advisor, especially so early into the academic year. They hadn't even finished out their first week yet.

Honey inclined her head to the side, as curious as her boyfriend about her brother's meeting. "What do you need to talk to your advisor about?" she wondered aloud, frowning at him. She hadn't known that he had a meeting coming up. Standing up, she unconsciously put her hand into Brian's, a united front as they stared down the other occupant in the room and waited for him to respond.

Jim cleared his throat, uncertain how much he wanted to share with anyone. The idea that had taken shape in his mind was still too new and had the power to surprise even himself. Only his father was aware of his thoughts and of the changes he had already instigated within his schedule. Not ready to share everything, he shrugged a shoulder and attempted to divert them from a resounding round of twenty questions that he didn't want to play. "It's nothing big, Honey. We're only going over a few requirements I'm going to need for graduate school."

Taken aback, Brian's eyebrows snapped together. "Aren't you planning on staying at NYU?" It had been the plan for both of them from the beginning; a seamless transition from undergraduate to graduate studies at the same university. They had agreed to it after their freshman year together, having realized how beneficial it would be to stay at NYU and also continue to room together. Neither would have had to worry about finding a new roommate or setting up a new place to live and both would already be familiar with the university. They had each deemed it the best possible option. Brian had considered the matter settled for a long time. So had Jim. Suddenly worried and for reasons he couldn't fathom or explain, Brian studied his best friend with concern.

"There's nothing to worry about, Brian," Jim hastened to assure him, hating the feeling inside that he was misleading his best friend but unwilling to discuss it, not until he had finalized his plans with his advisor. "Like I mentioned earlier, we're only going over my requirements for the graduate program I want. It's nothing big."

About to question him further, Brian was interrupted by the cheerful ringing of his phone. With one eye on Jim, he grabbed his cell from the table and answered it. "Hello?" Then his eyes widened, his mouth went slack, and he got the almost-guilty expression on his face that Jim had come to expect whenever she called her brother.

Immediately knowing exactly who was on the other end, Jim's good humor dissipated swiftly. Stoic, with absolutely no expression on his handsome face, he grabbed his backpack with one hand, carried his soda can with the other, and high-tailed it out of the room as fast as his long legs could go. He made it down the short hallway and into his room, barely resisting the urge to slam his own door for good measure. The hurt and fury he felt were two powerful emotions; they hadn't let go of him yet. He didn't know if they ever would. The two hadn't attempted to talk to each other since that fateful June day before he had left for camp. Whenever her cell number came up on their home phone or on Brian's cell, he made certain never to answer it and ignored it. She had only made a few overtures towards him; all for his birthday in July. The text message and email hadn't been responded to. The birthday card sat in a dark corner of his desk drawer, unopened and gathering dust. His first instinct had been to tear the card into tiny pieces once he had seen the return address on it but he couldn't bring himself to do it, just as he couldn't delete her email or her text message. He figured he had to be a glutton for punishment for willingly keeping around the newest reminders of her. Squeezing his eyes tight to block out the images, he leaned up against his bedroom door for much-needed support and worked hard, very hard, to keep her out of his mind. It was useless. He failed at it. Every single time.

Quiet feet padded after him. A cautious hand knocked on his door, startling him. Jim bit back a sigh before he opened the door and stared down into the knowing and compassionate hazel eyes. "Honey," he greeted her with a sigh of resignation. He looked down the short hall, heard Brian's muted voice coming from the living room, and barely hid a grimace at his knowledge of the person on the other end.

"Hi, Jim," Honey breathed out softly, her face filled with compassion and understanding. She hated the wounded look that flickered briefly in his eyes every time Trixie's name was mentioned within his hearing or when she called to talk to one of the Bob-Whites in his presence. He was becoming much more adept at hiding his emotions than he used to be but Honey was one of the few that he wasn't able to fool. She knew him too well.

He arched an eyebrow and invited her into his bedroom with a curt nod. Plopping down on the edge of his bed, he said with a hint of misplaced sarcasm, "I'm surprised you can tear yourself away from your boyfriend's side."

The victim of more than one teasing remark from their friends about their new status, Honey let it roll off of her, unperturbed and undeterred, and understood that he was only trying to deflect her from her true intentions. She hated to do it, knew exactly how he would feel when she said the forbidden name, but she had to bring it out into the open. She didn't have a choice. Bottling it up wasn't going to help Jim, not in the long run. He needed to deal with it, one way or another. Her deep breath steadied her and prepared her for saying the name that he didn't want to hear. "You know Brian's talking to Trixie, right?"

Only the lifting of his eyebrows gave him away. No one had brought her up to him. No one. Not since that awful day when he had come back home from camp. It was like his friends and his family had made an unspoken pact to not mention Trixie to him, for which he was eternally grateful. To have that pact broken now gave him a start of surprise. He did the best that he could to hide the depth of his emotions behind a small smirk. "The thought did cross my mind," he remarked dryly, not wanting Honey to see how much even the sound of her name affected him. "Brian's guilty expression always gives it away when she calls." He left them alone every single time, having no desire to hear what they discussed.

Since she had finally found the courage to instigate the conversation she had been dying to have with Jim for over two months, she inquired cautiously, "Do you know that it would be much better for you and for Trixie if you two would just talk, right?" She chewed on her bottom lip, hoping that she may actually be able to encourage him to talk to Trixie. She, as well as the majority of the Bob-Whites, were of the firm belief that if the two of them would only take the time to talk to each other and really listen to what the other one had to say, they would be able to work out all of their problems. It was such an easy solution. She couldn't understand why the two were set firmly against it.

"I'm certain it would," he agreed evenly, surprising her immediately.

Cut off from the diatribe she was mentally preparing to give to him, Honey came to a sudden and sputtering stop. "Wait, Jim. What did you just say?" She tapped a palm on her ear as if she was clearing it out to make certain she had heard him correctly. "You think it would be a good idea to talk to Trixie?"

He rolled his eyes at her foolishness. "Yes. I said that you are right. It would help if we were to talk," he clarified for her before ruining his agreement. "There's just one problem with that suggestion. No, scratch that. There are two problems with your suggestion. I don't want to talk to Trixie. And, since she hasn't attempted to call me after her move to San Diego, I can only assume that the same is true for her. So, you see, Honey, it's a rather pitiful suggestion. It's not going to happen." He meant it. With the way Trixie had left, effectively slamming his face in the door as it closed behind her, he was not going to seek her out. Ever.

Trixie Belden, who had faced down hardened criminals and had proven beyond any reasonable doubt that she was not afraid of much in this world, was afraid to talk to Jim. Honey knew it even though her friend had never admitted it to her. Staring at Jim for an exceedingly long moment, she gave a curt nod of her head. "So you're going to continue to be stubborn," she inferred correctly, hoping to goad him into talking to Trixie.

"Drop the subject, Honey," he suggested in a warning tone, his green eyes beginning to ignite with the fire of battle. "You know it's one I don't want to talk about, even with you. It is none of your business."

It may not be any of her business but she hated standing by and watching her brother become so miserable. While she couldn't physically see Trixie unless they were holding a webcam conversation, which they did as frequently as they could, she heard the same thread of misery in her voice every time they talked. Where Jim was concerned, Honey knew that she was the first one to bring Trixie up to him. Brian had faltered every time he had tried to talk to Jim, as had Dan. Mart hadn't tried. She didn't want to give up, not when she had just started, and hastily prayed that she could get through to him. "I'll agree on one condition," she informed him decidedly.

Instantly wary, his lips curled down. If she was willing to give in so easily, it meant that she was after something else. He didn't know what that something was. Yet. "What's that?"

"I'll agree to drop talk of Trixie," she stated, stressing the name and deciding that she was going to have to use it every time she was near Jim whether he wanted to hear it or not. She wagged a finger under his nose. "But you have to tell me the truth. Right now. I think it's awful suspicious that you are having a meeting with your advisor now. What is your meeting with really about?" When he didn't answer, only stared at her as if a second head had suddenly sprouted out of her shoulders, she tapped a foot on the ground and slapped a hand to her slim hip. "I know it's not simply going over your requirements for graduation in the spring or your plans for grad school. It's more than that. I know it. I can feel it. If I were to talk to Daddy, I know he would agree with me, too. Tell me, Jim."

She must have overheard part of their conversation the other day when she had stopped in at Wheeler and Hart, International to visit their father. Jim had wondered but, since she hadn't questioned him, had been lulled into a false sense of security that she hadn't listened in on them. He still tried to brazen it out, unwilling to share the decision with her unless there wasn't any other option for him. He didn't want to disappoint her and he really didn't want to have to explain himself. He would be doing enough of that soon enough. "I stopped in to have lunch with Dad. We do that from time to time. It wasn't unusual."

"Yes, it was," Honey disagreed vehemently, shaking her head. "I could tell by the way you two were talking. Your heads were close. Neither of you even heard my knock on his door or saw me enter the room until I called out your names. It was pretty intense, whatever you were discussing." Damn them, they had been talking too low. She hadn't been able to hear a thing. Both had looked guilty when they saw her and had immediately launched into a conversation about her potential career plans. It had been blatantly obvious that they were hiding something from her and were doing everything possible to keep her from discovering what it was.

"Maybe. Maybe not." He gave a non-committal shrug and started to take his books out of his backpack, staring at the growing pile and not looking directly at her. Lying was not his forte.

She started to tick off her suspicions on her fingers, ignoring his unease and discomfort with their conversation. As far as she was concerned, he deserved it for keeping secrets from her. "Let's see, Jim. So far we have a meeting with my dad and a message from your advisor to meet with you tomorrow. That's enough to make me suspicious. I wasn't the partner to the best detective in the state of New York for nothing." Honey paused dramatically before saying the most damning of all, "Then there's the fact that you are a lousy liar, Jim. The absolutely, positively worst liar of all of us. You suck at it. Big time. And you just lied to Brian and me in there. Unless I miss my guess, you're trying to lie to me in here." Her furious gaze leveled on him, accusing him, daring him to contradict her.

He couldn't. His face flushed bright red because she was right. He had lied. It didn't sit well on his broad shoulders. "Fine," he declared fiercely and dropped his books on the floor with a loud thud that made her jump. He dropped onto his bed and crossed his arms over his chest. "You're right. I did lie to you. Sort of."

"I thought so." Honey cautiously approached him and gingerly sat down next to him. Her hand itched to cover his knee, to offer him support, but she knew better. He didn't want it, hadn't for a long time, and, she had a feeling, he wouldn't appreciate it. He was more comfortable in his role as the lone wolf of their group. Even when the six of them were together, he still managed to keep a distance between them and himself. It was terrible. It felt like they had lost both of their co-presidents at the same time. Remember to focus on the issue of the moment, she spoke calmly and soothingly, "Tell me why, Jim. Why did you lie to us?"

"It's something I've been thinking about after my internship this summer," he said after a long pause. Sighing, he ran a hand through his red hair. It wasn't easy to say it out loud. It hadn't been easy to discuss his choice with his father, who had listened carefully and hadn't questioned the sudden turn-about in his career path. It hadn't been easy to set the ball in motion and change his course schedule. It hadn't been easy to set up a meeting with his advisor. And it wasn't going to be easy to tell any of the Bob-Whites; even Mart, who was just beginning to speak in clipped sentences to him again. Because of his change in plans, he felt like he was letting all of them down. "I didn't enjoy it. In fact, I could easily say that I found it to be one of the worst experiences of my life."

"There's a reason why you didn't enjoy your camping experience," Honey reminded him gently. His mind had been full of Trixie. On the first trip he had been consumed with thoughts of their fights and then, on the second one, with his astonishment over her move to California. Jim had fulfilled his obligation to his internship but it hadn't been a labor of love or enjoyment. It had only been an obligation to him. He had even shared with Honey that he hadn't taken away anything useful with him from the internship.

Since he didn't want to discuss Trixie with her at all, he didn't acknowledge the undeniable truth of her statement. "Whatever the reason, I didn't enjoy it as much as I expected to. In fact, I dreaded the second camping trip. I merely went through the motions and couldn't wait for it to be over." He put his hands on his knees and prepared himself before admitting, "It got me thinking and wondering if maybe, just maybe, I was starting down the wrong career path myself."

Her eyes widened until they were huge honey-gold orbs of pure and total shock. "What?" came out of her in a high-pitched squeak, was the only word she could utter. She couldn't have heard right. There was simply no way that Jim had just said what she had heard. She shook her head to clear it and waited with something akin to disbelief for him to continue.

"You're not the only one who can think about changing their career goals," he chided her gently, in a brotherly way. His response let her know that she hadn't heard wrong.

Honey hadn't declared an area of study as of yet but, through her summer job at Dr. Ferris' office, she had recently discovered an affinity for occupation therapy. She would be able to help people in need, which was a huge goal for her, and one that she thought she had in common with her brother. "Hmm," she murmured, unable to put together a string of coherent words. She frowned in concentration but couldn't come up with anything to say. Not a damn thing. Her mind was mush.

He took pity on her and explained carefully, "An idea came to me one day in August, right after the second trip. I had stopped in to see Dad. He was frustrated and angry and shared with me a list of complaints about the complications he was having with the company. A bunch of contracts had been misinterpreted by his lawyers. The mistake ended up costing W&H a lot of money." He remembered the figure and shuddered. Matthew Wheeler had not been pleased.

"I seem to remember something about that," she remarked vaguely. She couldn't recall the specifics. At the time she had been more focused on her burgeoning romance with Brian and hadn't paid much attention to anything else. Admittedly, she thought with a foolish grin, she still wasn't paying too much attention to anything else. It was much easier and more pleasurable to think about her boyfriend.

"Dad was rightfully upset about it. I thought about the situation and did some research." He sucked in a breath and then said, his words strong and true, showing her that he was not to be deterred from his new choice, "I'm meeting with my advisor to discuss the possibility of attending law school next year. You probably haven't realized it yet but I've already dropped pre-student teaching and my other ed classes from my course load and I've picked up the higher level business courses that I'm eligible to take. Luckily I had already taken many of them anyway so I only had to add an extra course to each semester in order to graduate with a degree in business in the spring. I'd like to study corporate law and then go to work for Dad after I graduate. It's not my goal to open up a school anymore." He said it stoically, without an ounce of defensiveness to it, and gauged her reaction carefully.

It was the last thing she ever expected Jim Frayne to say. She couldn't comprehend it, not when one of the very first things she had ever heard him say had been about his desire to build a school for boys. Honey nervously bit her lip and began to trace the tiny stitches on his dark green comforter. "Law school?" was the only thing that could come out of her suddenly dry mouth.

He nodded. "I'm dead serious about it, Honey. I'm meeting with my advisor tomorrow to see what I would need to do to get accepted."

"But your school?" She couldn't finish the question, could only stare at him, and waited for him to continue.

She didn't need to ask it. He understood what she meant. He met her gaze squarely. "It's not as important to me as it once was."

Her fingers stilled. It was unbelievably clear to her why it wasn't as important any longer. Trixie. She didn't voice it, though. "Oh, my," she mumbled out, staring down at her hands. Her shoulders slumped while she came to the realization of how deep the cut went. Closing her eyes, she wondered if Jim, or Trixie, would ever truly recover from their break-up. She didn't think so. Trixie had felt the need to move away, far away from her friends and her family. Jim now had the desire to alter his life plans, to switch to a career she had never known him to contemplate before. It didn't bode well for either of them, as far as she was concerned. Damn it, she thought fiercely to herself. They needed to take her advice. They needed to talk.

"I discussed it with Dad. He thinks it's a good idea and would love to have me work for the company. He also suggested that I could take on the responsibility of overseeing the donations the company makes to many of its chosen worthwhile charities," Jim added. He had appreciated the fact that his father had taken into consideration that the driving force behind starting up a school for boys had been for him to create a way to help others. Matthew Wheeler was making certain he could still fulfill that desire, even as a member of the business world. "I'll be able to help others, Honey. Maybe I'll even be able to do more than I ever could have with my own school. W&H makes a ton of money, as you know, Honey," he added with a small attempt at a joke.

Honey's didn't laugh or look up. Everything was changing, much quicker than she would like it to. Sighing, she nervously pushed aside a strand of her hair. Law school? She breathed out sharply, letting the news slowly seep in. Jim and law school? Having never considered it, she took a mental step back. He would excel there, she didn't have a doubt, the same as he had excelled at NYU. He would do well in it if it was what he truly wanted and believed in. The question felt unnatural on her lips. "What…um…law school would you be interested in?"

"Dad suggested Harvard," he answered immediately. His father had understood that there was a desire in him to move away, that he needed something more than the state of New York could give him. "There's a small branch of our company close by the university, ironically enough, in Cambridge. I could earn some valuable experience working as an intern there. I'd really get to know the ins and outs of the company and how things are done, plus get to complete my studies at the same time." Most importantly, he would be able to prove himself. He had already insisted with his father that he start at the bottom and that he would earn his way up.

Massachusetts would put him farther away from Sleepyside. Honey was no fool. He would be even more firmly entrenched on the East Coast while Trixie would be farther away, out on the West. Steeling herself, searching for the strength, she asked the question that would be uppermost in everyone's mind once they found out about his sudden shift in plans, "How much has Trixie factored into this sudden choice of yours?"

His eyebrows lifted, the only sign of surprise he displayed at her question. Standing up, he put his hands on his hips and frowned off into the distance. "Probably more than I'd like to admit," he finally said, kicking his backpack for good measure. How could he explain that his desire to open the school had dissipated as soon as she had left? He didn't know the reason behind it; all he knew was that he could not do it. There was no driving force within him, not anymore. In fact, it felt like there was shell inside him, where his heart should be. A change was what he needed.

Nothing else that he could have said could have made her feel worse. Honey pushed herself off the bed and approached him. Unsure how he would accept her offer of support, she tentatively hugged him. "It will be fine, Jim," she murmured quietly, letting the topic of conversation drop. It would only make him feel worse.

He surprised her by hugging her back. The first talk was out of the way. He could only hope that it would get easier as he continued to tell the rest of his friends. "Believe it or not, Honey, I'm actually kind of excited about the change in my plans." He didn't need to add that he hadn't been excited or looking forward to anything in the longest of times. "This year is going to be more challenging for me than I originally thought." It was going to keep him busier, too. More work meant less time to think. He much preferred being busy.

She laid her head against his shoulder, understanding more than he realized with her sisterly heart. "We'll support you. You know that, Jim," she told him quietly. "Every single one of us will. If you want law school, then we all want it for you."

"I do," he answered, just as quietly but firmly. "It's going to be a challenge but I know I'll be able to do it."

"I know, too." Honey closed her eyes. She took a moment to imagine how Trixie was going to handle the news. She wasn't going to like it. Honey knew that with certainty. She hated to admit it but Trixie wouldn't be able to share her concerns with Jim about his new plans, not with the way things had been left between them. Because of that, it would eat away at her.

"I'll let Brian know soon," he responded, hugging her one more time before letting her go. "Tomorrow, after I get back from my meeting with my advisor. I hope I don't disappoint him. I know he was planning on having me for a roommate through med school, too. He'll have to find a new one."

"He won't be disappointed with you," Honey declared emphatically. "Find a new roommate won't be hard. Maybe he'll end up rooming with Mart. He won't want you to worry about that. He wants you to be happy, Jim, the same as the rest of us."

Happy. He didn't know how long it would be before he would ever be truly happy again. It hadn't happened yet ; he wasn't foolish enough to believe that a change in his career would bring him that elusive feeling. It was giving him a direction that he was beginning to anticipate, for which he was pathetically grateful. It was giving him a purpose. And it was getting him away from New York. Granted, it was only a state away, not the opposite side of the country, but it would work for him. He would make certain of it. "Thanks for listening," he said to Honey. "I appreciate it."

"No problem. That's what sisters are for." She stepped back from him, glanced at the half-opened door. She couldn't hear anything from the living room, which was only a hop, step and a jump away. "I think Brian is finished on the phone," she remarked awkwardly.

He quirked an eyebrow, scooped up his books from the floor and stared pointedly at the door. "I'm going to get started on my homework, Honey. I have a paper due on Friday."

She took the not-so-hidden hint, walked towards the door, and stopped, one hand on the doorframe. "Thanks for telling me, Jim," she said softly, meaning it. "I'm glad that you did. I won't say anything to Brian about it. You can tell him when you're ready to." Then she slipped through it like a shadow, closing the door behind her.

He stared at the closed door, his book held suspended in the air, uncertain if he was making the right decision. He couldn't say it was _the _right for him but he did know that he needed a change and a focus, something to help him bury his thoughts of his failed relationship with Trixie and push him forward. Focusing on getting into one of the most prestigious law schools in the country was one way to channel his energies. He sat down in his chair, flipped on his laptop, and plopped the thick textbook down next to him. When visions of a curly-haired woman danced tantalizingly at the edges of his mind, he resolutely ignored them and started working on his paper. His grades were good, better than average, but he wanted to have stellar grades for his senior year, to up his GPA and assist him with his new goal. He wanted law school.


	36. Chapter 36

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Thirty-Five

Mart's whistle preceded him as he walked up the stairwell to Brian's apartment. Amazed by his good fortune at having his morning class canceled, he had decided to visit Brian until his next class started. His brother and Jim always had a nicely-stocked kitchen, thanks to the combined efforts of his mother and the cook at the Manor House. He had at least a good hour of quiet time where he didn't need to study. He didn't count on having Jim there since Brian had told him Jim's schedule ahead of time. He should be at his pre-student teaching placement. He shouldn't be at home, which suited Mart wonderfully. They were almost friendly to each other but nothing else. Civil, cool and cordial. Nothing more; nothing less.

He reached the apartment and cheerfully knocked on the door, fully expecting his brother to answer. Having memorized Brian's schedule, he was aware that he should be home unless he had decided to meet Honey somewhere or go to the library to do more studying. Both were strong possibilities. Glancing down at his keychain which carried a spare key to Brian's apartment, he figured he would take a nap if his brother wasn't home. Whistling a merry tune, he waited with a welcoming grin while the doorknob turned. The grin abruptly slid off his face when he saw the person on the other side of the door.

Jim lifted his eyebrows, barely resisting the urge to ask him why he was there. Mart had excelled at avoiding Jim, which only annoyed him even further. "Mart," he remarked shortly and stepped back, his only outward sign of greeting, and waited to see if he would come into the apartment.

Mart stood on the threshold, a shocked expression on his face and his blue eyes immensely puzzled, unable to understand why Jim was at the apartment. He wasn't supposed to be there. He had memorized the schedule Brian had given him so that he could avoid Jim whenever possible. "Brian," he stuttered out inanely, looked beyond him into the living room for his big brother. "Is…ah…is Brian here?"

Slightly amused by Mart's reaction, realizing that he hadn't expected him to be at home, in his own apartment, Jim turned his back and walked back to the sofa, letting Mart make the ultimate decision on whether or not he would come in. He called out over his shoulder, "Brian left a few minutes ago to go the library. He wanted to check out a few books that he needs for a paper he has due. I think he's going to squeeze in a lunch with Honey and then he's in class the rest of the afternoon. I doubt if he'll be back until the evening." He sat down and picked up the remote, effectively ignoring Mart. The way Jim saw it, it was up to the younger man to make the next move. If he was a betting man, he would have laid down money on the fact that Mart would leave.

Caught in the crosshairs, unsure what to do next, Mart glanced up at the ceiling and mentally ran through the available possibilities. He had two options. He could either leave, which would be incredibly rude, or he could start the process of fixing the problems in his friendship with Jim, problems that he was aware where mainly his doing, not Jim's. Even though it rankled and wasn't something he wanted to do, he knew what he needed to do. His lovely girlfriend Di had taken on the role of peacemaker and had discussed it with him at length ever since the academic year started up. With four days of classes down and with each of them working on their fifth, that meant four full nights of conversations centering around him and Jim. Even though he would have liked to overlook the arguments she kept jamming down his throat, he couldn't. Much to his chagrin, her points were strong, valid and solid. They were ones that he couldn't ignore, not unless he wanted to be seen as an absolute ass. Since it seemed like fate had dropped an opportunity into his lap, Mart decided it was time to try. If anything, it would at least appease Di. It took a superhuman effort but he came into the apartment and closed the door behind him. Slowly, he sank down onto the recliner and remarked lowly, "Looks like the Yankees did well last night." The team was currently featured on the highlights of Sportscenter, with the previous evening's stats written in miniscule numbers across the screen.

"Extra innings," Jim answered shortly, just as quietly, and didn't say another thing. He kept his emerald gaze trained on the television set, stoic and smooth, and didn't glance in Mart's direction once.

Mart followed suit. The uniformed men continued to run across the screen while the announcers' voices droned on and on, sharing the information from the games. It didn't make a lick of sense to him. "And the Mets?" he finally asked after about two miserable minutes of absolute, deafening silence.

"They were featured before you came. They lost," Jim shared evenly, keeping his answers informative but short.

Yet another awkward length of silence. It was the first time they had been alone together without a buffer since the afternoon he had informed Jim about Trixie's move out of the state, Mart wasn't certain what to do next. Small talk wasn't doing it. Neither was sharing a television set. Frowning, he recalled what he thought had been Jim's schedule and decided it was a good place to start. Neutral. Looking out of the corner of his eyes, he wondered curiously, "It seems to me that you were supposed to be at your pre-student teaching assignment this morning. Brian mentioned that to me at the start of the week. Did your schedule change?"

Jim settled back against the comfortable cushions and internally debated within himself whether he should clue Mart in to his new plans or not. So far, only his father, his sister and his advisor knew. Shrugging a shoulder, he figured it was as good a time to tell Mart as any. "Yeah. My schedule changed," he said with an ironic tint to his voice, one lip curled up at the edge.

The way he delivered his answer made Mart sit up and take notice. There was something odd in Jim's voice, something that Mart wasn't used to hearing from the older man. It sounded like self-recrimination. Facing away from the television set for the first time, his inquisitive blue eyes landed on Jim's face. Inhaling deeply, well aware of the fact that Jim had every right to tell him to kiss ass and get the hell out of there, he took a deep breath and inquired, "What do you mean by that, Jim?"

Jim let out a short laugh and ignored the question. He picked up his empty glass and tapped a finger against the side of it. "You realize this is the most you've spoken to me in over two months, don't you, Mart?" he asked with the right amount of sarcasm.

Mart flushed to the roots of his shortly cropped hair. "I know," he replied on a sigh. He couldn't bring himself to apologize for his behavior; he still firmly believed that Trixie had left because of Jim. However, as Di had pointed out over and over and over again, whatever the reason lay between Trixie and Jim and did not include him or any of the other Bob-Whites. Finally, after over two months of having his sister residing in another state and listening to Di drive the point home, he was starting to believe it. "Look, Jim," he began uncertainly and then stopped, having no clue on how to continue. Words utterly failed him.

Jim cocked his head to the side. When Mart didn't continue, he spoke encouragingly, "What, Mart?"

Mart's face contorted while he contemplated what to say. Nothing came to him readily except a long, drawn-out expulsion of air. Eventually, he declared slowly, choosing his words carefully, "I can't change what happened. I'm not going to go into it because you know what I'm talking about. I can't even say that I would have done anything differently on that day because, well, I probably wouldn't have. I don't think that I have completely accepted it even now but that's not your problem. That's mine." He frowned in deep concentration before admitting, "However, I am just starting to think that I may have been a little too harsh on you."

Jim drew back, torn between the desire to laugh at Mart's convoluted speech or to have his own temper ignited by an apology that wasn't really an apology. Mart thought he may have been 'a little too harsh'? Recalling that ugly scene in the kitchen at Crabapple Farm where Mart had gleefully stomped on the heart that Trixie had managed to tear out of his chest with her choice to leave, he questioned sarcastically, "Only a little?"

"Maybe. You know. The tiniest of bits," Mart replied with a small chuckle and his face warm with embarrassment.

It took Jim a while to decide what to do next. Hanging on to his own bitterness was a strong, viable option. However, it wouldn't serve much purpose. Since Mart was willing to almost apologize, he figured the best he could do was to almost accept it. When he laughed, Mart relaxed visibly. "Just the tiniest of bits," he repeated softly to himself and laughed a little harder, amused by the incredulous statement. An understatement if he had ever heard him. Remembering Peter Belden and their encounter near the orchard, he muttered, "At least you didn't have an ax with you."

"An ax?" Mart looked at him quizzically. Understanding broke through his lagging senses. "Ohhh," was drawn out of him, long and exaggerated, while he imagined what that meeting had gone like. His father hadn't softened towards Jim yet, was more than willing to hold onto his resentment against the redhead. Helen hadn't been able to sway him. Neither had Brian. Mart hadn't tried. All of the Beldens seriously doubted if he ever would forgive Jim. "That must have been…interesting," he finally settled on after searching for the correct word.

"Interesting," Jim mumbled under his breath before barking out a small, humorless chortle. Letting it go, he stood up from the sofa and pointed to the kitchen. "I'm going to get something to eat. Are you hungry?"

"Is my name Mart Belden?" he quipped back jokingly and followed Jim into the kitchen, starting to feel more at ease with his friend than he had in the longest of times. "You and Brian always have more food than I do over in my dorm room. That's the main reason why I stopped by," he admitted as he watched Jim go through the panty with eyes alight with hunger and come out with a box of pop-tarts. He caught the silvery package tossed at him, opened it and sniffed the frosting-covered pastries with appreciation before placing them into the toaster.

"When's your next class?" Having spent most of the week the same way as he had spent the summer, in complete and total isolation, with his thoughts as his only company, Jim wasn't privy to much. He had a pretty good handle on Brian's schedule since they roomed together but he didn't have a clue about Mart's or Honey's. It hadn't seemed important enough to him to actually ask them about it.

"Should be right now," Mart answered, anxiously waiting for the tasty treat to pop up from the toasty with his mouth watering. When the pastries jumped up, he grabbed them and plopped it onto the paper plate Jim offered him, shaking away the heat from his fingertips. Blowing on them to cool them off, he shared, "Our professor cancelled it. Something came up within his family. There was a note that on the door that said he had to go out of town and won't be back until Monday. Monday's class is still on, more's the pity."

"That's a pleasant Friday surprise," Jim noted. It always felt great to have a class unexpectedly cancelled. He placed his glass on the clean counter and moved to the refrigerator.

Mart laughed joyfully. "Exactly. Di's busy until three otherwise I would probably have headed over to her dorm to hang out with her. She's got a full course load today so I wouldn't have been able to see her. We're getting together this evening."

"So we're second choice," Jim inferred correctly, searching through the inside of the refrigerator. He pushed aside a Styrofoam take-out container, the last piece of pizza from the night before, and a box of Chinese food. Thinking that maybe he and Brian needed to stop eating out so much, he grabbed the container of orange juice and put it on the counter.

"Hey, neither you or Brian have violet eyes or long, dark hair," Mart joked back, slightly shocked by how easy it was to talk to Jim again. He hadn't realized how much he had missed his friend and felt more than a little shamed by his treatment of him.

After he poured his glass of orange juice, Jim leaned back against the counter and crossed his ankles. "I'm glad you stopped by, Mart," he remarked seriously, relieved to be on speaking terms with the other Bob-White again.

"Me, too." Mart took a bite out of his pastry and chewed it. It was exactly what he needed. Fighting the urge to inhale it, he recalled the fact that Jim shouldn't be at his apartment and that he hadn't answered his question. "Hey, Jim! You never answered my question. Why are you home? Aren't you supposed to be at your high school placement, meeting your class and getting ready to start student teaching in the spring?" he asked in-between bites.

"No. There was a change." Jim took a deep breath, preparing himself. It hadn't been easy telling Honey the previous night. It wasn't going to be easy to share his new plans with Mart but people were going to find out. He wouldn't be able to hide his change of heart for much longer. He was seriously surprised that Brian hadn't figured out that something was amiss yet but chalked that up to a combination of his stressful course load and his relationship with Honey. "I'm not going to be student teaching this year. In fact, I dropped all of my education courses from my schedule and have picked up new ones instead."

Mart choked on his next bite. Coughing, and not so delicately, he dropped the plate onto the table and stared at Jim as if he hadn't heard him correctly. "Did my ears deceive me? Did you say that you dropped all of your ed courses?" Incredulous, appetite completely gone, all he could do was stare at Jim, his mouth open and a smattering of left-over crumbs on his chin.

Mart's face was a study in almost comical surprise. Jim would have laughed if the situation wasn't so serious. "You heard right, Mart," he assured him quietly, his voice low and deep. "I had returned to the apartment about five minutes before you got here. I had a meeting with my advisor today. We discussed the changes in my declared program of study and also about my hopes for graduate school."

"Wait, Jim. You've got to slow down here. You're moving too fast for my brain. I can't process all of this." In deep concentration, Mart settled on the most imperative question of the series swirling through his confused mind, "What does this mean for your school, Jim? You have to realize that you need the experience of student teaching. You also need that degree in education. If you don't student teach or get a Bachelors in education, how are you going to open up one when you're ready? I don't get it."

"I'm not," Jim replied simply. He calmly took a sip of his juice and observed Mart's reaction over the brim.

"What?" Mart's mouth dropped to the floor. It took a second before he remembered to close it. "You're not planning on opening your school?"

Telling his next person wasn't making it any easier. Jim swallowed a sigh and forced his emerald eyes to stay on Mart's befuddled ones. "No. I talked it over with my father a few weeks ago. I'm going to graduate from NYU with a degree in business. Luckily I had already taken many of the required ones so that I only have to take a few extra courses this year." He shrugged. The extra course load didn't bother him. He didn't have much else to do. He certainly wasn't going to be actively seeking a social life. Staying home and studying was fine with him. "I'm okay with that. Then I'm going to take the LSATs and hopefully be accepted to Harvard for grad school."

Mart couldn't have been more shocked. "Harvard?" he parroted back stupidly.

"Law school," Jim offered quickly, anticipating the next question before Mart had time to form it. "I want to get my degree and become a corporate lawyer. It's already set. I'm going to work for my father's company after I graduate."

God, things were changing much faster than he had ever expected them to. The news hit him hard. He couldn't understand it, let alone comprehend it, and it took him by complete surprise. As far back as he could remember, Jim had wanted to open his own school. What the hell was happening to them? Mart asked himself the question silently. First Trixie blew them away with her decision to relocate the entire way across the country, then they found out that Honey changed her career plans, and now there was Jim…He had once thought that the Bob-Whites were the most steadfast and reliable group in the entire world. It looked like he was quite wrong. "I don't know what to say," he mumbled under his breath, staring at his friend with concern and bewilderment.

"I'm going to oversee the many charitable donations made by the company so I'll be able to help out worthwhile organizations and projects financially. Maybe I'll even find a school that we can support instead of building my own." Having come to grips with the idea that another of his cherished dreams was well and truly over, he appreciated the fact that his father had offered him the option to assist with the various charities that W&I funded. It was a start.

"Trixie. It's because of Trixie." A memory of Jim's face when he had first learned of Trixie's move tugged at him, made Mart feel even guiltier and slightly responsible for Jim's sudden change in plans. He hadn't been sympathetic or caring in his delivery of the news to Jim. Damning himself, he fleetingly pondered how Trixie would take the news once she found out about it. If he was feeling guilty, he couldn't even begin to imagine how it would make her feel. "You're changing everything because of her."

He couldn't believe that Mart, out of all the people that he knew, was bringing up Trixie to him. Amazed by the fact that they were actually going to talk about her, Jim replied deliberately, "Maybe. Maybe not. I can't change the fact that she chose to move instead of trying to work things out between us. I did a lot of thinking when I moved back to the city and during my second camping trip. It's not for me. Not now. Not anymore." He put the glass down on the counter with careful precision. The soft click wasn't as satisfying as the sound it would have made had he thrown it against the wall but he wasn't letting out any of his stronger feelings, was holding them in check with a steel will and unwilling to admit them, even to himself.

Mart heard a finality in Jim's voice that had him snapping his head back. He gritted his teeth and wondered if Trixie realized how much of an impact her leaving had made on Jim. Why couldn't she have stayed? he asked himself, frustrated with the entire situation, and ran a hand over his short, crisp hair. "I, um, I talked to her the other evening. Wednesday evening," he added hastily, gauging Jim's reaction.

Other than a quick blink, Jim didn't react. "She called Brian last night," he offered into the quiet, his voice intentionally low, even and controlled.

"She told me she was going to try and get in touch with him soon. It can be tough with all of us having different schedules and factoring in the time zone, too. She seems to be doing well," Mart shared, knowing that his words were making Jim feel uncomfortable but unable to stop talking about her for some odd, unknown reason. "But she misses us terribly. She didn't say it but I could tell. She misses home."

And he missed her. Terribly. He couldn't go back in time to try and correct the events of the past summer. Instead, he was stuck in the painful purgatory of their own making, with no way out. Too stubborn, he wasn't going to make an overture towards her. None seemed to be forthcoming his way from California, either. A new focus seemed to be the best course of action for him. It had to be. There wasn't much of a choice. Having no desire to hear anymore, he picked up his glass and carried it over to the sink. Tilting an ear towards the doorway, he listened to the television set. "I think Sportscenter has cycled back through. The Mets are going to be on again after the next commercial break," he announced in an attempt to steer the conversation away from Trixie.

It worked. Mart gave in and, with his pop-tart filled plate, he rejoined Jim in the living room. one. Together, they sat back down and watched the television set. His appetite had evaporated. He ended up picking at the pop-tarts, never finished Mart didn't bring up Trixie again, realizing that Jim had already shared as much as he was going to about his absent sister. He was impressed that Jim had talked to him about Trixie as much as he had. In desperate need of something to say, he asked, "Was your advisor content with your plans?"

"He said it's definitely feasible," Jim answered, relieved that Trixie wasn't brought up again. "He also mentioned that he may have a job for me over Thanksgiving break. It's voluntary. I wouldn't be paid but that doesn't bother me. There's an opportunity that he knows of in Massachusetts. It's for Habitat for Humanity. I'm going to put in for it. My advisor believes I'll be accepted for it since there aren't many people willing to volunteer over a holiday. It's a worthwhile project and it will help a family out, too. I'm looking forward to it. The plan is to have the house finished by the end of the Thanksgiving weekend. It'll be long hours and tough work."

Mart wasn't certain if he could handle any more surprises from Jim Frayne today. "But that means…" his voice trailed off uncertainly while the full meaning sank in.

"I won't be home for Thanksgiving," Jim finished for him. The volunteer position would be an excellent way for him to avoid seeing Trixie, who he knew would not miss a holiday at home, especially the busy Thanksgiving one. She would be needed to help out with the open house her family put on each November. He wouldn't be around, wouldn't have to face her or their concerned friends. It certainly wasn't brave of him to avoid Sleepyside but he didn't care. He didn't want to open his heart up to anymore pain. If staying away from Trixie helped, he would do it. "I'm not going to be in Sleepyside for the holiday. Instead, I'll be swinging a hammer or painting walls." If he was accepted, he added mentally. He wasn't worried about not being accepted. As his advisor had pointed out, there weren't too many people willing to give up an entire week and a holiday to work for free.

There went Di's fanciful hope that the Thanksgiving holiday would help the two mend their broken fences and become a couple again. Mart grimaced, imagining her response when he told her. She wasn't going to be happy. Neither, he suspected, was Honey. "Oh, boy," he grumbled lowly under his breath.

Jim understood more than Mart knew what those two lowly spoken words meant. Dropping the subject, he pointed to the screen. "The Mets are on now, Mart. You can catch the highlights of their game if you're still interested."

He didn't care about the Mets or any other baseball team right now. Mart watched the television set. He didn't see or hear anything that occurred on the screen. When the short blurb was over, he reached down, picked up his backpack and stood up. "Thanks for the snack. I'm glad you were here when I stopped by." It was the closest to an apology he would give Jm. Flashing his friendly grin, he explained, "I've got to head over to my class now if I want to get a good seat in the back of the room." Slipping the strap of his backpack over one shoulder, he moved towards the door, feeling more lighthearted than he had in a long time. It felt good to be on full speaking terms with Jim again.

Jim followed him to the door and watched him walk down the hallway. The normal bounce to his step that was an inherent part of Mart Belden was back. It made him smile. Slowly, he closed the door. The sounds of the chipper sportscasters didn't register on him as he passed through the living room on the way to his bedroom. He went straight to his desk. Even though he hated to do it, he opened his drawer. Hiding in the way back of the drawer, lying underneath an unopened birthday card, was a picture that he wouldn't have admitted to still owning, let alone keeping, in his room. He rarely looked at it. The corners of it were becoming crinkled from its new home within the desk instead of in a frame. Turning it over, the shaft of pain that shot through him was nearly debilitating. Her eyes stared back at him, beautiful, big and blue. The smile on her lips seemed to come from the happiness somewhere deep inside her. He noted the dimples winking in each cheek, the faded freckles splattered across her nose, the sparkle that was such an important part of her in the sapphire eyes. Shaking his head, he wondered how it could have gone so wrong for them and so very quickly, almost without a warning. Since it hurt to even look at a picture of her, he quickly flipped it over and stuffed it back into the drawer, well out of sight but certainly not out of mind. "Damn it," he muttered lowly and gave in to the urge. He slammed the drawer shut. Loudly.

Hating the weakness for giving in and thinking about Trixie, he grabbed his backpack and hurried out of the apartment, barely remembering to flick off the television set as he passed by it. The need to get out, to get away from the memories that were just beyond the edges of his mind, lying in wait to taunt him, was strong. He made a mad dash for the library. Once there, he tossed his backpack on a table in the far corner and buried his head in his thick textbooks, finding a refuge in studying, and completely ignorant of the student life going on around him. To him, it didn't matter. His new goal was paramount. He needed to make it happen, no matter what the cost. More importantly, he needed to forget about her.


	37. Chapter 37

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Thirty-Six

An early November on the beach was different than July or August. Even though it wasn't quite as warm as the summer or as populated, she was still fascinated by everything about it and studied it through the tinted lenses of her sunglasses. She didn't miss a piece of the breathtaking view. The roll of the waves as they met and crashed along the beach in a continuous cycle. The sun, floating high above, with its golden reflection shimmering along the very top of the water. The breeze, gentle and calming, blowing in from the water and stirring the sand. Grateful to be a part of the magnificent scene, Trixie flicked off her iPod, slipped off her ear buds, and tucked it into her backpack. She toed off her sandals and rolled up the edges of her faded green cargo pants, eager to feel the water on her feet. Dropping her backpack on the sand without a second thought on top of her blanket, she started forward to the edge of the water and giggled as the water sprayed her bare feet. She stood still, letting her toes sink into the gooey mud, and watched as the waves continued to come in and go out.

Thoughts came and went in tandem with the waves. She didn't pay any attention to the other people on the beach. It had been a fast semester, filled with tests, papers and projects, and her placement at the agency. Surprisingly, she had kept up with all of her assignments and hadn't fallen behind once. While her grades weren't the highest in any of her classes, they were more than acceptable and helped prove to her that she could succeed in school work, completely on her own, and without help from others.

Socially, she had turned into an introvert. Other than the few group projects she had to complete, she hadn't interacted much with the other students at the university. Living off campus set her apart. The few times she had attempted to eat on campus had proven to her that the meals she concocted of Ramen noodles or yogurt were much better. The only people she spent time with were Jocelyn and Heidi.

She bent down to retrieve a seashell. Half of a small scallop, with a break in the bottom corner. Trixie fingered the break and then tossed it back into the ocean. It floated on the top of the water before it slowly sank down. As it fell from sight, Trixie thought about her work at the agency. She was surprised by how much she enjoyed it. It had actually become the highlight of her fall semester. Even more surprising, she considered both Jocelyn and Heidi to be friends. The three ended up seeing each other outside of the workplace a lot. Trixie wasn't certain how it had come to be but, somehow, they had managed to create a work-out schedule where the three alternated between meeting at the gym or, at Trixie's request, running along the beach. They even hung out at different local spots from time-to-time, although Trixie was not the social butterfly that Heidi was. She hadn't overcome her wariness around Max, for reasons she couldn't understand, although he was always polite and friendly towards her. She couldn't shake the feeling that she couldn't completely trust him or that he was dangerous, for some odd, unknown reason. It hadn't seemed appropriate to share her beliefs with Jocelyn. After seeing Max and Jocelyn in a heated embrace through a crack in their office doorway, she had realized that her first instincts were right. They were definitely a couple, and quite a passionate one at that. They never declared their couplehood openly to anyone. Respecting their privacy, Trixie had never mentioned to anyone what she had seen.

As the water covered her bare toes and soaked the edges of her pants, Trixie's mind moved onto home. News from New York traveled to her at a quick rate of speed, through phone calls, texts and emails, and from all directions. Hardly a day went by that she didn't have a talk with someone. Smiling, Trixie could hear Bobby's voice wheedling in the background with his parents for a trip out to San Diego during her last phone call to her parents. It was extremely easy to stay in contact with most of the Bob-Whites. Her brothers and Dan were always eager to talk with her. She, Honey and Di made a habit of keeping Tuesday evenings free for a webcam talk, which was one of the highlights of her week. She was kept abreast on everyone's life except…Trixie's lips curled down as she thought about the lone Bob-White who no one ever talked about with her. Consequentially, it was the same person she never asked about. She hadn't heard one single shred of information about him since she had moved out to San Diego. Not a single, solitary thing. No one seemed to want to bring him up to her and she wasn't brave enough or collected enough to ask anyone about him. Her hands tapped nervously against her thighs. Thanksgiving was only a few weeks away, would be here before she knew it. The wind blew around her, teasing her curls and sending them in a dance around her face. She absently caught them and tucked them back behind her ear, anticipating what the holiday would be like. There were so many ways it could go. She would see him then.

With the dry sand sticking to her wet feet, she gradually returned to the faded blanket in red and black spread out on the beach and sat down. Taking a foot in her hand, she brushed off the sand and watched as it fell back to the beach. Then she reached for her backpack, prepared to start the latest reading assignment. She contemplated the too-thick textbook within and released a low groan of despair. While it had been her intention to actually read while she was at the beach, she quickly decided against it. Procrastination was her friend. "I can read it later," she muttered decisively, pleased with her choice. "Much later. That's what the night is for."

Satisfied, she pushed the book back inside without opening it up and then found her cell phone. Staring at the time, noting that it was almost eleven o'clock on a Saturday morning, which would put it at two o'clock back in New York, she started to scroll down the programmed numbers until she came to the one she wanted. Leaning back on her elbows, her bare feet crossed, she waited for the call to go through.

It was answered on the third ring by a breathless and excited Honey. "Trixie! It's you! Don't hang up. I'm here. Oh, no!" she practically yelled into the phone. She gasped as a stack of textbooks slipped off of her bed and landed with a loud thump on the floor.

Trixie flinched when she heard something hit the floor. "What was that?" she inquired curiously.

"Just a few books," Honey giggled into the phone, waving an aristocratic hand through the air. Her tasteful birthstone ring sparkled with the movement. "They toppled over when I got my cell." Scooping up the books, she placed them on their correct placement: her nearby desk. Her bright yellow highlighter landed next to them. Honey flopped down on her bed in her deserted dorm room, wanting to get comfortable for her chat with Trixie. Her eyes slid towards the window. The gloom of the gray November day didn't brighten her mood. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen the sun. It seemed that the clouds had taken up permanent residency in the sky. There was nothing quite as dreary as late fall in New York, she thought, disgruntled. The weather was never that uplifting or pleasant. Even worse, the bite of winter was right around the corner.

"This is a good time to call, right?" It was something they always asked each other, just in case the time frame didn't mesh the way they thought it should. Trixie waited with pursed lips, hoping that Honey would answer yes. It had been too long since they had talked. The weekly chat between the three of them on Tuesday evening had been quick, out of necessity. All three girls had reports to complete or an exam to study for. It hadn't been the best or most satisfying talk.

"Oh, yes!" Honey assured her, twirling a strand of honey-colored hair around her fingers and ignoring the mound of work she needed to finish. It wasn't going anywhere, she figured with a philosophical shrug. "You're giving me a much-needed break. If I have to read another paragraph in that tiny, horrible black-and-write print where I think the least amount of words the publisher wants to put on the page is at least a thousand or more, I think I'm going to scream."

"Tell me about it," Trixie responded dryly, understanding perfectly. She shoved her backpack off to the side and curled her legs underneath her, getting as comfortable as the sand would allow her to. Through tinted sunglasses she stared out over the horizon, following a bird as it glided gracefully through the air, in search of food, before it disappeared from her sight. "I came to the beach to read but I decided that calling you would be better."

"The beach," Honey sighed dreamily, a wistful look on her face. The gloomy New York November was starting to grate on her nerves. It only signaled the beginning of a long, endless winter. "That sounds heavenly, Trixie."

It was. Almost. Trixie didn't add that the only thing keeping her move out west from becoming 'heavenly' was the fact that she didn't have any of her friends and family with her. There were still times when she thought that she must have been crazy for instigating such a move in the first place. Anytime she started to reflect and wonder if she had been wrong, all of the events of the previous summer would came back at her, strongly, fiercely, and with an intensity she couldn't deny. It was a teasing and taunting timeline that reminded her why, exactly, she had chosen to leave Sleepyside. Even the time and distance hadn't managed to change her feelings on it. The hurt ran way too deep. "I got here about half an hour ago," Trixie said in a way to deflect her thoughts into a more positive direction. "It's an absolutely beautiful day here."

"It sounds lovely, much better than here. I'm stuck in my dorm room, attempting to read but getting more bored by the second. The weather here is chilly and getting chillier by the minute." She stared at her winter jacket hanging on a hook by her closet and sighed. It wouldn't be too much longer before she would have to bundle up in it every day. So far she had been able to get by with a sweater and a scarf but the weather was fast moving towards winter-like conditions. There was even the mention of a potential light snowfall towards the end of the seven-day forecast. Wonderful, she thought sarcastically.

"What have you been up to?" Trixie picked at the fringed edges of her blanket, scattering little bits of sand in all directions.

Honey giggled like a schoolgirl sharing confidences on the playground. Blushing, she mumbled, a beautiful smile adorning her face and a sparkle to her hazel eyes, "School, of course. It keeps me busy. But I've also spent a lot of time with your oldest brother, too."

Trixie rolled her eyes. There was nothing quite like having two best friends mooning after her brothers. It made her almost happy to be out of state. Almost. "You've loved every minute of it, I can tell."

Honey's next giggle of glee was her answer. Since Trixie never offered much about her life in San Diego other than the very barest of answers, she repeated the question, "Tell me, Trix. What have you been up to?"

"School, like you." Trixie blew a stray curl out of her face and was frustrated when the light breeze only blew it back in. Her hair was getting long enough for her to have to do something with it besides pulling it back with a headband. Ignoring it, she added, knowing that Honey wanted more, "And I spend a lot of time at the beach."

"How about your placement at that private detective agency?" Honey listened carefully, hoping to find out more than Trixie had shared with her.

"It's been a good place to be at. At first I was disappointed to be given the same placement I worked at over the summer but it turned out to be a positive choice for me. I already knew everyone there and the work that I was expected to do. I've had a lot of fun and learned a lot, too." Trixie didn't add that she felt blessed to have learned more about the inner workings of a true detective agency. It would help immensely when she opened her own. She would open her own up one day, even if her name was the only one on the business cards.

"Anything else?" Honey wondered aloud. "You have to do other things besides going to classes, your practicum and to the beach."

Trixie sighed a little. "Sometimes I hang out with a few friends from the agency," she admitted. It was irrational but she felt guilty for making new friends and enjoying spending time with them.

Honey understood how Trixie was feeling without her saying it. She felt the same way. She missed Trixie too much and almost felt like she was betraying her when she spent time with another friend, which was silly but couldn't be overlooked. "Good for you, Trixie. I think it's terrific that you're making new friends," she spoke encouragingly. Clearing her throat, she changed the subject. "Has anything exciting happened to you since you've been out there? Are you still a mystery magnet?"

"No, the move out here seems to have cured my penchant for mysteries," Trixie responded, laughing. There were a few minor events that had happened since her move, such as the robbery at the coffee shop, but she had chosen not to enlighten Honey or anyone else back home. It wasn't exactly a mystery. Neither was the criminal she had spotted down at the docks one day, whom she had remembered viewing in one of the files from the agency. She had followed him to a rundown house in a not-so-very-nice section of town that reminded her of Hawthorne Street and then had alerted the proper authorities. He had been arrested and she had been complemented for her quick thinking. Then there was the wallet she had found on the beach during one of her runs. It had taken some effort on her part but she had managed to track down the owner and returned it to him. Mysteries, certainly not. But they were a few incidents that had added a little bit of excitement to her life in San Diego.

Not wanting to share the incidents with Honey, she asked, hesitatingly, "Any roommate yet?" Trixie bit her lip nervously while she waited for Honey's answer. Since she had pulled out of NYU unexpectedly and close to the last minute, Honey had been left without a roommate in her dorm. It was one of the causes of a nagging guilt within Trixie. She couldn't get over the belief that she had let her best friend down.

"None," Honey responded cheerfully, without a wave of regret. She was the envy of many of the young women on her hall. Having her own room to herself was a luxury no one else in their dorm had. Staring over at the empty bed within her room, she admitted to herself that there was only one roommate she wanted. Unfortunately, her choice of a roommate was in another time zone. Purposefully keeping it light, she said, "It's been awful nice having a room to myself. I don't know what I'd do if I had to start sharing it with someone."

"You wouldn't have any trouble adjusting at all," Trixie laughed into the phone, recognizing Honey's tact and appreciating it. "You're much too nice, Honey Wheeler. You'd make anyone a wonderful roommate."

The words made her smile, a bittersweet one. Giving a delicate cough to cover up her emotional response, she changed the subject, "So, we only have a few weeks left until it's time for the Thanksgiving break. I'm looking forward to some time off. It'll be wonderful to see everyone in Sleepyside. When are you coming home?" Honey leaned forward, eager to hear Trixie's answer, and grabbed her planner off her desk. She flipped it open to the fourth week of the month and, with pen poised in the air, waiting for Trixie to share her plans.

Her tickets were sitting on her desk at her apartment, ready and waiting for her. Her parents had surprised her by mailing them out to her last week. "My plane leaves on Tuesday morning. Very early on Tuesday morning. I'm skipping my one class that to travel. We have a paper due that day but I'm going to turn it in early. My professor told me that he didn't mind if I did. He said all he's going to do is collect the papers and then send the class on their merry way," she answered with a laugh, looking forward to the holiday with mixed emotions. It was going to be a treat to get home, to see her family, her friends, and Sleepyside. But Jim…her stomach clenched at the thought. She couldn't figure out how he was going to react to her or how she should react to him.

Honey received the news with a sigh of envy. "Good for you. I'm stuck here until the end of my evening class on Tuesday. I can't skip it because our professor very nicely decided to give us an exam. He's not as nice as your professor, that's for certain. He warned us about not skipping the exam. If anyone skips out to go home early, they won't be able to make it up. It makes up a significant portion of our grade, too." She wrinkled her nose in disgust. The classroom had resounded with a loud, collective groan of disgruntlement and disappointment when their professor had made his announcement a week earlier.

"That sucks," Trixie declared emphatically.

"Yeah. It most certainly does." Honey ran a hand through her hair, smoothing it out. "Brian already said that he will wait for me to be finished with my exam. He's driving me home. We'll get into Sleepyside late, probably right around eleven o'clock."

"I'll probably beat you by a few hours if there aren't any travel complications." Trixie's plane would leave bright and early, well before the sun came up. Her father had insisted on picking her up at the airport. It was going to be amazing to see him again. He sounded as excited about her visit home as she did. "Dad will be waiting for me at the airport. He's driving me home."

Honey clasped her hands together. She circled the Tuesday before Thanksgiving on her planner in bright pink and write 'Trixie's home' in large, bold letter. Grinning, excited about the coming holiday, she exclaimed, "Thanksgiving is going to be so much fun! It's going to be wonderful to be back in Sleepyside, with you."

"What about Di? Does she have her plans set yet for Thanksgiving?" Trixie asked curiously, looking forward to hanging out with her two very best friends in the entire world. She enjoyed spending time with Jocelyn and Heidi but they were not Honey or Di. No one could replace either of them.

"We got together for a quick lunch yesterday," Honey answered. "She told me that she has the entire week off, the lucky duck. She has two projects to turn in but, as long as she gets them done ahead of time, she won't have to attend any of her classes during the week. Lucky, lucky Di," Honey murmured enviously. Deciding that she couldn't bemoan the fate that both Trixie and Di had nicer professors than she did, she hastily added, "Di and I have had a little trouble coordinating our schedules this semester even though she's in the same city as me for many get-togethers. We've been able to get together for our webcam conversations on Tuesdays but that's about it. Her and Mart's schedule are more compatible."

Raisin her eyebrows, Trixie snickered at the thought. "They probably did that on purpose," she said, straight-faced, and then burst into a round of laughter that Honey quickly joined in.

"I wouldn't put it past them," Honey answered with the same laugh. Hugging a heart-shaped pillow to her chest, she settled back and got even more comfortable. In a move the mirrored Trixie's earlier one, she took off her flats and dropped them on the dark blue carpet. Toes, painted a soft blush, wiggled against the soft light blue comforter. "When I see Mart, he usually has Di with him. I think they spend a lot of time together."

"I know that they do," Trixie replied with a roll of her eyes. "It's odd to catch Mart without her."

"Tell me about it. They're very happy together." Honey thought it was sweet. Two full-blooded Bob-Whites couples. Things would only be absolutely, positively perfect if there were three. Her smile fell off her face. Trixie and Jim should be well ensconced within their ranks. Shaking her head, she wondered why they couldn't be.

"How…um…" Trixie paused uncertainly, unable to ask the question the popped into her mind every single time she talked to one of her friends or brothers. She simply didn't have the courage to do it. The ocean breeze blew in. She ducked her head and brushed aside some of the sand from her blanket. A useless endeavor since the next breeze only deposited more by her side. Squeezing her eyes shut, hoping Honey didn't know what she really wanted to ask, Trixie asked, "Tell me. Is Mart doing well? He always seems fine when I talk to him but I know he wasn't the happiest with, well, with everything." _Everything _encompassed so much. She worried about Mart and how he was handling her choice to change to universities.

"He's starting to return to normal. Well, what's normal for Mart, anyway," Honey answered with a brave attempt at humor. Her laugh wasn't quite as happy this time. Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself to say the name that she knew would cause great pain to Trixie, even after the significant amount of time that had passed by. "He actually talks to Jim when he sees him now. I mean, Mart really talks to him. I'm not certain what happened but one day, about two months ago, Jim and Mart were suddenly talking again. Neither of them told any of us what had happened between them. Their conversations weren't forced or uncomfortable or polite anymore. They even joke together around each other now. It's almost back to normal. I think Di has been a strong influence on him. She's who I think convinced Mart that it was okay to bury the hatchet with Jim." Honey's torrent of words came to a stop while she waited, breathless, for Trixie's reaction.

Trixie swallowed back an audible gasp at the mention of Jim's name. Her friends had always walked on egg shells with her. Every single one of them had steered the conversation into another direction any time it seemed like he was going to be brought up. When tears sparkled, making her eyes resembled wet sapphires, she resolutely closed them as tightly as she could. Relatively certain she had regained control of her voice and wouldn't embarrass herself in front of Honey, Trixie murmured raspily, "That's good. I'm glad. I never wanted anyone to be mad at Jim."

Honey chewed her pale pink lipstick off. While Mart was softening towards their other co-president, Peter Belden certainly wasn't. With her new status as Brian's girlfriend, he had shared certain information with her about his father's feelings for her brother. Brian firmly believed that it would be a long, long, long time before his father gave up his animosity towards the redhead, if ever. Peter firmly put the blame in Jim's corner. She didn't think Trixie needed to know that particular piece of information. At least, not unless she gleamed it from herself from the upcoming trip home. "Jim is doing well in his classes," Honey said softly into the phone. "In fact, I think he's getting the best grades he ever has in college."

Grimacing, Trixie stared out unseeingly over the water. The continuous motion of the waves normally soothed her but not right now. "Good for him," she mumbled lowly.

As she did every time they talked, she wondered if she should tell Trixie about Jim's change in career plans or not. It was a debate that had raged within her ever since Jim had shared it with her. Honey, along with the rest of the Bob-Whites, had made a collective decision not to interfere. The five of them firmly believed it wasn't their place to tell Trixie. It would only make Trixie feel guilty and would probably upset Jim. Jim, they had all agreed, was the logical one to tell her…if the two ever actually carried on a conversation again. He would need to inform her of his changes. But there was news she could share. Jim had only told the rest of them a week ago themselves. She had been stunned by his announcement, even more stunned by the fact that Mart had known about the possibility of it ahead of time. "Trixie, there's something I've got to tell you. Jim…well, he…um…he won't be home for Thanksgiving," she stammered out swiftly, staring up at the ceiling while she waited for Trixie's reaction. She counted to twenty-five before Trixie responded.

Astonished, Trixie sat up, at full attention and her back ram-rod straight. She had been dreading seeing him for the first time, especially with an interested and avid audience around to watch their every move, and even more so since she didn't know how to act around him. She had been the one to instigate the final cut, just as her mother had warned her, and she would have to face him again. They ran in the same beloved circles. "He won't be home?" she questioned, lowly, incredulously and stunned. "Jim won't be in Sleepyside? Where will he be?"

"He signed up for a special, out-of-state Habitat for Humanity project at the beginning of the semester and just found out at the beginning of the week that he was accepted as one of the volunteers." Honey's words tumbled out, fast and strong. "He'll be spending his vacation in Massachusetts. It's the hope of the group that they will be able to finish the house and have it ready for the family to move into by Saturday." She didn't share that Jim had appeared to be relieved to have a solid excuse not to spend Thanksgiving at home, in Sleepyside. He hadn't told their parents yet. She hoped they understood. They would be disappointed, as much as she was. Thanksgiving without Jim didn't make much sense to her. It didn't seem right.

She couldn't find a thing to say. Words were beyond her. Caught by surprise, Trixie imagined the upcoming holiday without him. It was practically inconceivable. And it would mean another span of time where they didn't talk or see each other. "That's…ah…good," Trixie finally settled on. She scooped up sand and let it fall back to the beach through her fingers. "He'll do a great job on the project, I'm sure," she added when it seemed as if Honey was waiting for a response

Frowning, Honey couldn't help but realize how stilted the conversation become once she had brought up Jim's name. Trixie wasn't ready to talk about him, that much was obvious. As much as it pained her to admit it, more time away from each other was going to be a good thing. Honey let the subject go reluctantly and introduced a new topic of conversation. "So, since most of us are going to be home in only a few short weeks, we're going to have to come up with a lot of activities to do over the break besides studying. I know your family always hosts the open house for Thanksgiving but we have to work in a few other, Bob-White-only things during the few days we're all off from school. It's been way too long since we've been together."

The thought of hanging out with her family and friends was amazing but she had to caution Honey, "We won't have much time. My plane leaves during mid-morning on Saturday. So, we'll have to make the most of the time we've got. A sleep-over would be great." Trixie got a mischievous glint to her eyes. "That is, if my two best friends can manage to find time to tear themselves away from my older brothers. I've known them all my life. I can't imagine what you and Di see in them," she announced dryly.

A beautiful rose bloomed across her cheeks. "Yes. Well. Hmm," Honey stammered out, still embarrassed anytime anyone teased her about her relationship with Brian even though they had been dating for over four solid months. She should be used to it by now, considering everyone within their group made a habit out of teasing them whenever the opportunity arose, but she wasn't. Much like Trixie, she did not like being in the limelight, especially when it involved her love life.

Trixie's laugh was reminiscent of her old one; happy, lively, and full of life. Graciously letting Honey off the hook, she brought up Brian. "How is my oldest brother doing, anyway? I haven't heard from him in since last week. I left a message on his cell two days ago but he still hasn't called me back. That's not like him. He usually calls me back right away."

Since she knew Brian's schedule as well as she knew her own, maybe even a little better, Honey answered swiftly, "Don't worry about him, Trix. He had a huge exam yesterday. It was very important. Studying for it wiped him out. I think he studied to two or three in the morning for the past couple of nights. Anyway, he went straight to his apartment after he finished it and took a long, well-deserved nap. I stopped by to see him for a few hours yesterday. He still looked exhausted and was working on correcting a paper that he has due at the end of the week. He mentioned that you had called him but he hadn't been able to find the time or energy to return your call. I'm certain he'll call you back soon." She didn't add that when she called his apartment a few minutes earlier, Jim had answered and told her that Brian had gone to the computer lab to print out the paper. It was remarkably awkward, the rift between the two. Honey hated being in the middle of it, as did the rest of the Bob-Whites.

"Tell him there's no hurry," Trixie remarked with a tiny smile on her face, imagining the pressure that rested on Brian's broad shoulders. It made her shiver. She couldn't imagine having to live with, let alone live up to, that type of pressure. He needed to maintain a certain GPA to keep his scholarship. She was immensely grateful her scholarship didn't have the same requirement. His relationship with Honey was the perfect balancing act; it helped him focus on something other than med school. "I'm in pretty good shape for the next few weeks so I'm probably more flexible than he is right now. I don't have anything due right now. My last round of exams will be the final ones on December and I don't have any papers or projects due until then, either. I'll be killing time here. You can let him know that I'm not going anywhere."

Come home. Come home. Come home to stay. The words were there, right at the edges of her lips, begging to come out. Honey wanted to say them badly but she didn't. She swallowed a sigh, wished that Trixie would simply move back home, but unfortunately realized the foolishness of her wish. It wouldn't happen, not without a major breakthrough between her and Jim. Judging from Jim's decision to pursue business law and his desire to stay out of Sleepyside for the important family holiday, she could tell that it wasn't going to happen anytime soon. "I'll be sure to pass along the message," Honey murmured quietly.

Trixie tipped her head to the side. Even through the distance between them, she could feel that Honey's mind was somewhere else, somewhere that wasn't as pleasant or comfortable as it should be. Without seeing her face, she couldn't guess what had changed Honey's mood. Wanting to get Honey back on track and more positive, she questioned, "What about you, Honey? Have you declared what you wanted to study yet?" She picked up a small stick and drew tiny circles in the sand, anticipation a positive answer.

"Oh! Trixie! I haven't told you yet. I'm sorry." Honey derailed her current train of thought. "I met with my advisor the other day. We planned out my courses for next semester. I'm seriously leaning towards occupational therapy," she answered immediately, the excitement about the career choice evident in her voice. "It sounds like the perfect job for me. Even better, NYU has a terrific program. I'd even be able to stay on and get my master's here instead of moving onto another graduate school, just like Brian is planning on doing."

It didn't register on Trixie that Jim wasn't added to the list of people planning on completing their next level of study at NYU. "Occupational therapy," she murmured under her breath, so quietly Honey didn't hear it.

Honey rushed on, excited about her choice. "Trixie, I'd get to help people, really help them. I'd be able to see the gains that they make. Plus I'd help them feel better. I love helping people. I've actually been thinking about it since I worked at Dr. Ferris' office this past summer. I met the OT there. She was great. All in all, it just sounds…"

"Perfectly perfect," Trixie's voice joined her friends. They shared a delighted giggle at the way they could still finish each other's thoughts. Trixie had to resolutely squash a small amount of jealousy at Honey's choice. How she wished that Honey hadn't changed her mind, that she still wanted to be a private detective, and was planning on opening an agency with her when they graduated. Shaking her head, Trixie admitted it was a hope that didn't have a chance of coming true. As much as it pained her to admit, she was learning to become used to the failure of many of her important wishes and dreams. "I'm excited for you, Honey. You'll be wonderful at it," she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. She did mean it, from the bottom of her heart. Honey would be wonderful at any profession she picked. It was only Trixie's bad luck that it wasn't criminal justice.

Honey released a tiny breath she hadn't known she had been holding. She hadn't been able to predict how Trixie would react and had been nervous about telling her, needlessly so, she realized with a small giggle. "Thanks, Trix. You can't even know how much your support means to me. It means everything." About to expand on more, a small beep interrupted her, announcing that she had another call coming through. She stared at the number and groaned loudly. It was her mother. Regrettably, she couldn't put her off, not in good conscience. She had to accept the call which meant…"Oh, Trix, it's my mother. I hate to do it but I'm going to have to cut our call short," she said apologetically.

"No problem," Trixie assured her, digging her toes into the sand. "Don't worry. It'll be fine. We'll catch up later. Even better, we'll be seeing each other in a few weeks, too. Tell everyone I said 'hi!"

"Will do." Honey hurriedly said good-bye and then hung up.

With the dial tone resounding in her ear, Trixie flipped her phone closed. It fell, forgotten, to the blanket. Tipping her head back, she let the rays of the sun warm her face and closed her eyes. Honey's revelation ran like a mantra through her mind. Jim wouldn't be home for Thanksgiving. He would not be home. While it didn't seem right for him not to be in Sleepyside for the family holiday, she couldn't help but be relieved. Somehow, for some unknown reason, she had been given a reprieve from seeing him. She doubted it was on purpose but he had unknowingly given her more time to recover, to attempt to heal, before they saw each other again. Her first visit home since the summer would be Jim-less, as much as her leaving had been.

Her eyes snapped open, the tinted shades protecting them from the bright sunlight. That meant Christmas. She would see him for the first time then. She knew it, could practically feel it. The relief she felt evaporated like thin morning mist on a hot, humid day. Nervous anticipation began to build. An extra month would give her even more of a chance to build up a stronger façade, to not let him see how much she still hurt over their break-up. The short vacation in November would help, she realized with a curt nod. She would be able to wet her feet in her old life, would be able to gauge the others' reactions to her, and then she would fly back to San Diego and mentally ready herself for the month-long break in December. Slipping off her sunglasses, carelessly dangling them by the side, she imagined the holiday in her mind. Christmas. Sleepyside. And Jim. Drawing in a sharp breath, Trixie slowly let it out and stared unseeingly out over the Pacific Ocean. She couldn't imagine anything happening between now and then that could be as important as the approaching holiday home.


	38. Chapter 38

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The November holiday had been a whirlwind of activity, from the second she had stepped through the front door of Crabapple Farm to the time her brothers and friends had dropped her off at the airport for her return flight to San Diego. Tears misted briefly in her eyes before she blinked them away. It had been sweet, almost unbearably so, to have spent a few days home, within the comfort and loving arms of her friends and family. It hardly made sense to her that the Thanksgiving break had passed in the figurative blink of an eye and that the last few weeks of school of her first semester were nearly complete. She only had a few more days left at the university and in California. One last exam to take; one huge paper to turn in. Then her semester would be well and truly over, with only the worry over what her final grades would be, and she would be returning home again for the long Christmas holiday.

Whenever she thought of her brief trip home for Thanksgiving, it made her melancholy. Glancing up at the thick clouds gracing the normally brilliant blue sky, she smirked. They matched her mood beautifully. It had been so much fun to be with everyone again, to hang out with most of the Bob-Whites, and to stay in the same house as her family. And yet, through it all, something had changed. She couldn't deny it, although she didn't think anyone else had felt it. While being home had been fun, exciting and exhilarating, she couldn't help but feel that it was different. And that difference rested solely within her. She would always belong there, in Sleepyside, but the break she had willingly instigated had left its mark on all of them. Because of it, she had felt more like a visitor than a permanent member. She was curious to see how she would feel with an overly long vacation looming ahead of her.

Her thoughts brought her to a standstill. Ignorant of the people rushing past her on the busy sidewalk or the traffic zooming up and down the street, she focused on the next trip home. The Christmas holiday was only a few days away from beginning. It wouldn't be as hectic or as busy as the past one. There wasn't an open house to help with the second she got home or to assist with the clean-up right after it ended. There wouldn't be as short of a time limit on her vacation, either. It wouldn't be as easy, she knew that. This time home would be much more stressful. It could be summed up in one word: Jim. Her hands started to sweat. She balled them up at her sides, nervously and anxiously. He would be there, just as she had predicted. Honey had nonchalantly confirmed it during a sleep-over at Crabapple Farm the night before she had left. Obviously in deference to her and her feelings, he had only been mentioned briefly in passing. The few times his name had been brought up, every pair of eyes in the vicinity had swung to her. It left Trixie with the suspicious feeling that the Bob-Whites were keeping something from her, something important about Jim. When she had muttered her suspicions to Mart, he had surprised her by saying that if she wanted to find out what it was, she would have to talk to Jim. Her mind had immediately turned to a new girlfriend as the reason for all of the telling looks but she hadn't voiced that thought to anyone. If it were the case, she would prefer not knowing. It made it simpler. Even know, after nearly half a year away and without a single line of communication open between the two, her heart stumbled at the possibility.

Bumped from behind, Trixie was brought out of her reverie. She caught herself on the street lamp post before she tripped. She frowned after the rudeness of the culprit, started moving again, her head bowed and her eyes focused on the gray of the sidewalk. Sighing, she remembered the true purpose. Her huge paper, due in two days. That damn paper was saved on her thumb drive, which she had stupidly left in her computer at the agency yesterday. Inwardly groaning at her forgetfulness, frustrated with herself for making more work for herself, needless work, Trixie picked up the pace and trotted towards the agency.

As Trixie entered the quiet building, she waved to Linda and smiled in greeting. "Hi, Linda," she called out and walked over towards the window that was decorated for the upcoming holiday.

"I thought your semester here was finished, Trixie. Your last day was yesterday," Linda informed her with a chuckle, her eyes twinkling at the young woman. She reached over and flicked off the Christmas lights that decorated the outside of her window. Instantly, the room lost much of its luster from the strands of multi-colored lights. She followed it up by switching off her computer with a gleeful grin. One of her favorite perks about her job was the fact that the agency closed down for the holidays. She was given nearly a month off herself. "Do you miss us already?"

"I had a lot of fun here," Trixie replied easily. She helpfully walked over to the Christmas tree covered in lights, sparkly tinsel, and red and green velvet bows. She unplugged the lights. Looking over her shoulder, she shared, laughing at herself, "I spent a good portion of the morning tearing apart my apartment, looking for my thumb drive. I had to stop and go take my exam at one. During that test, I realized that I had left it in my computer here. Jocelyn gave me permission yesterday to use the computer to print out a copy of the report to proofread since my printer at home was out of ink. With the semester coming to an end, it's been difficult finding an open computer at the lab on campus. I came over here right after I turned my exam in."

Linda nodded in understanding. A regular employee of the agency for the past fifteen years, and completely in the dark about the true reason behind the agency's existence, she didn't suspect a thing about the many secrets contained within the building. She stood up from her chair and put her voluminous purse on her desk. "Almost everyone has left for the day, Trixie. As you can tell, I'm getting ready to leave myself. I have a few more things to see to and then I have a date with the mall!" she laughed delightedly, the red light bulb earring she wore dancing in her ears. "We're closing early for Christmas. Today is our last day. It's tradition for our agency. We always have a long holiday between Christmas and New Year's. We won't open back up until after the first of the year."

There it was again. Christmas. She couldn't escape it. It was a combination of heaven and hell for her. "I know, Linda," she responded, chasing away her own rampaging thoughts, and stared at the fascinating necklace around Linda's neck. Eight tiny reindeer were attached to it. All eight of them had red, blinking noses. It was difficult to look away from such a sight. "That's another reason why I need to get up to my office now. If I don't get my thumb drive out now, I'm sunk. I have to get it so I can make my corrections to my paper."

"Go to it, Trixie!" Linda answered gaily, waving in the direction of the stairwell. She picked up the few faxes she needed to send out before she left. "And a Merry Christmas to you!"

After repeating her best wishes for a happy holiday, Trixie hurried up the stairs. The offices were all eerily quiet and dark. No one seemed to be around. There wasn't a sound or a light on anywhere, except in the hallway. She noticed that Jocelyn's office was as dark as the others so she didn't stop by. Instead, she rushed down the hall to what was affectionately referred to as her office. Pushing open the door, she saw the computer that sat on a long table and breathed a huge sigh of relief. It was there. After competently extracting her thumb drive from it, she stared at the modern marvel in her hand with relief and then stuck it in the pocket of her faded blue jeans.

Used to the quiet, she jumped when a door opened down the hall, followed by the sounds of muffled voices. Chuckling inwardly at her nervous reaction, Trixie dropped her hand from her heart and listened closely. Recognizing Jocelyn's voice first, she quickly popped her head out of the doorway, a smile of greeting on her lips, and ready to call out to them. Then she froze. Absolutely, positively froze. Unable to move, she watched the small group in front of her in shades of deepening horror. Giving her head a tiny shake, she tried to clear her mind, to see if the sight in front of her was really real and not a figment of her overly active imagination. When the people didn't change, stayed exactly the way they were, she admitted how foolhardy the attempt was.

Her breath stuck in her throat. Trixie took the small group in, her eyes the widest blue they could be, and her face a pale, pale white. She saw everything. With her back to Trixie, Jocelyn was standing next to Max, laughing merrily at something Max had said. His arm was around her waist, keeping her a little closer to his body than he normally did within the confines of the building. It wasn't Max and Jocelyn who were causing such a strong reaction. It was the person with them that made Trixie's heart rate triple, in fear and in shock. He was the man who had robbed the coffee shop in the early fall. She recognized him beyond a shadow of a doubt. Same short blonde hair. Same dark brown eyes. Same scar on his forehead. And the same tattoo on his left wrist. What the hell was he doing with Jocelyn and Max? He was not only with them but he was apparently having a grand time with them, acting as if the three of them were the best of friends. She couldn't come up with a single, solitary reason why the three were together. It petrified her.

Carefully, so as not to call any attention to her presence, she inched back into the room, and waited until their footsteps faded down at the other end of the hallway. She heard a door close and then groaned, correctly guessing that they had to have entered Jocelyn's office. Trixie pressed her body back against the wall in her office and tried to puzzle out what she had seen. Other than the outrageous and unlikely idea that the thief had an identical twin, she couldn't come up with any other plausible reason for his presence in the agency. It was as clear as the water from a fresh mountain spring that the thief knew Max and Jocelyn. Judging from the ease of their conversation, he knew them extremely well. Unable to piece it all together, she could only come up with the idea that she did not like what she had seen, not one bit. It reeked of a mysterious happening. For once, she did not want to ferret out the answer to it. She only wanted to get out of the building without being scene by the group of three.

Making as little noise as possible, Trixie peered out into the hallway again. The only way out appeared to be the way she had come in, which meant she would have to walk down the hall and go past Jocelyn's office. The idea didn't have any merit, caused a sick ball of fear to curl up in her stomach. She didn't want to see them, not ever again, not when both Jocelyn and Max were quite comfortable hanging out with the person they had to know from her detailed description to be the robber of the coffee shop.

Since that exit was no good, she glanced at the way they had to have come from. Heidi's office, at the opposite end of the hall. She felt a small smile lift her lips. There was a back staircase that led downstairs from her office, a kind of a secret and unused way to get into and out of the building. It led to the back door that could be accessed from the parking lot. An odd memory of the mysterious man from the green sedan floated through her mind, the man she had ironically enough seen on the day of the robbery. Unable to shut off her mystery-oriented mind, Trixie couldn't help but wonder if he had something to do with the odd group down the hall.

Inwardly cursing out her need to figure out the mystery, even when she didn't truly want to know, Trixie got angry at herself. Telling herself that now was not the time to ask more questions or to attempt to find answers to the ones circulating through her mind, she stared down the opposite end of the hall, at Heidi's door. It was invitingly open. Needing action, Trixie didn't waste another second. On quiet, ever so quiet feet, feeling as if she was in some kind of a bad action movie where she didn't know her future lines or her next moves, she walked down the hall, her feet light and deliberate, and slipped into Heidi's office, without anyone seeing or hearing her.

Heidi, friendly, efficient, social Heidi, was not sitting at her desk. Trixie blew out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She didn't want to see anyone, not when she couldn't come up with one conceivable reason why two people she had come to like and trust would be consorting with a criminal who had been described to them by her. She paused in the doorway, stared at Heidi's empty chair, and wondered if she was aware of the mystifying situation. She hated to admit it but, considering the fact that Heidi and Jocelyn were close friends, it was more than a distinct possibility. It made her feel even more betrayed. On feet muffled by the carpet, she started to cross the room to the door that would lead her to the staircase and outside.

Three steps away from safety in the form of the back staircase, she heard a noise from the slightly opened door that belonged to the ever-elusive boss of the agency. Turning, her destination momentarily forgotten, she faced the door to his office, astonished for missing the fact that the door was actually opened and that someone was inside. Not just someone, but the man who was in charge of the agency. She had never met him, had never so much as seen him, and all questions she had ever posed to any member on the staff had been left half-answered or completely unanswered. She didn't even know his name. Intense curiosity warred with a strong desire to leave the premises. Caught between the two powerful emotions, uncertain which one to listen to, the internal debate raged on for the briefest of times before her curiosity won out.

Piercing blue eyes studied the door. She closed in on it, her steps sure and light, and in perfect tandem with her breathing. Reaching the door, Trixie kept her body off to the side, out of the line of sight from the slightly opened door, and listened, all attention focused on the person behind the door. Smooth, deep, and definitely male tones. They sounded vaguely familiar to her, like she should know them from somewhere, a blip on her memory. She couldn't make out what he was saying. He was talking way too low, way too quietly. She could only catch the jist of it. It bothered her that she couldn't put her finger on the identity. In deep concentration, momentarily forgetting that it would be best for her to leave the premises, Trixie took a brave step forward, trying to see what she could through the barest slice of room available through the crack in the door.

She wasn't given much warning at all. One small, not-quite silent footstep alerted her the second the fine hairs on the back of her neck started to rise. Back stiff, she managed to get in a sharp elbow to the person's stomach behind her and a small fist into the face before something collided with the side of her head and she crumpled into nothingness.

Nothing. Not a damn thing but black for what felt like the longest of times but was, in actuality, only a few minutes. The black gradually gave away to gray, the same way the silence became broken by the sounds of people. Lots of people. "I'm sorry. You know I am," a male voice said, sounding sincere, apologetic and the slightest bit harried. It came from somewhere far off in the distance.

Trixie heard it past a persistent throbbing on the side of her head, had a moment to think that it was an odd thing for someone to be saying, but couldn't place who it belonged to or even why someone should be saying it. Coming fully alert, she didn't open her eyes, kept her body still, while the memory of what had happened slammed into her. She had been in Heidi's office, only seconds away from finding out the elusive identity of the boss, when she had been assaulted from behind. That explained the painful ache. Her fingers itched to touch the bump, to find out how bad it was, but she didn't move, intent on playing possum. She wanted them to think she was unconscious. She needed them to think that while she began to take stock of where she was. Her body was stretched out on something comfortable, most likely a sofa, and her hands weren't tied. She flexed her fingers to make certain. And there wasn't a gag around her mouth or anything around her eyes. Satisfied she had taken care of her location and the state of her body, she was left with no other recourse but to listen in on their conversation with growing awareness.

Jocelyn. She heard Jocelyn next. Her mouth tilted downwards while the words Jocelyn said registered. It didn't make her feel any better to realize that Jocelyn knew the person who had assaulted her, as well as the thief from the shop. Her stomach clenched but Trixie focused hard on the words. She needed to collect as much information as she could, in order to help put together the larger picture, and hopefully extricate herself from the situation.

"I didn't know she was in the building," Jocelyn said, wondering how the young woman had managed to slip by them. Well-versed in Trixie's schedule, she was deeply chagrined to know that her charge had been inside the agency without her knowledge. Running a worried hand through her hair, she slid a glance towards Trixie and released an audible sigh.

Max slid his thumbs into the loops of his khakis, unaware that Trixie was listening to their every word. He gave the man standing next to him a playful shove. "After we found out that our girl had been rendered unconscious by super spy here, I checked with Linda downstairs before she left for home. Linda said that Trixie stopped in to retrieve her thumb drive from her office. She forgot it yesterday. Apparently she needs it for a paper that's due." Of all the blind, dumb luck, he thought to himself. It would figure that she would get caught spying on their boss. He rather wished he had set up a pool with their friends to guess how long it would have taken Trixie to figure out that everything wasn't on the up-and-up with the private investigative agency of Anderson, Donnelly and Christopher.

"That would explain her presence," Shane said, causing Trixie to bite back a gasp. She remembered it well. It belonged to whoever had robbed the coffee shop. Only it didn't sound as nefarious or evil as it had sounded then. It sounded…normal. "Now if only you had thought to ask her why she was in Heidi's office instead of knocking her out," he spoke accusingly.

The large man glared at Shane, his guilt written plainly across his face. He hadn't realized who the intruder had been. All he had seen was a stranger standing outside of their boss's room, obviously eavesdropping, and a potential threat. He did what he had been trained to do: he took her out. He wiped a small trace of blood from the edge of his lip, thought back to the fist she had given him. For an untrained person, she had managed to get in two pretty quick attacks. He respected that. "Come on, Shane. I didn't think. You would have done the same thing. All I saw was someone nosing around. I had no idea who it was. We've all been trained to take anyone out if we suspect that they are up to no good. She was only a foot away from entering his office."

"Enough of this," an authoritative voice declared, breaking into the confusion and the cacophony of voices. Trixie squeezed her eyes shut as a chair was pushed into a desk and someone came closer to the group surrounding her. She could visualize it perfectly in her mind. Whoever it was had been watching the proceedings, most likely analyzing them, and had to be the unknown boss of the organization. There was a moment of blinding insight while she placed the voice. Mr. Miller! She realized with a start of surprise she couldn't disguise. It was Mr. Miller, the man from the scholarship committee. She had talked to him on the phone numerous times. He had assisted with her move out to San Diego. She couldn't understand why he was at the agency. "It doesn't matter why. All that matters is now and what we are going to do about it." He spoke with the voice of experience.

Jocelyn glanced in Trixie's direction. "You're right," she mumbled, taking comfort from the feel of Max's hand within hers. She squeezed back, hating the fact that Trixie was going to find out about their agency before she had been emotionally and mentally prepared for it. There was also the nagging feeling of guilt, tinted with anxiety, surrounding her. She couldn't predict if Trixie was going to be able to understand or forgive her for her part in their collective duplicity. It worried her immensely.

"I'm always right," their boss answered with a trace of conceit. Then he added with an upraised eyebrow, gesturing towards their guest lying prone on the sofa, "If you four would stop carrying on this unnecessary conversation, you would have noticed that our guest has been awake and hiding it from you for the past five minutes."

Even with her eyes closed, Trixie felt the interested looks coming her way. Knowing she couldn't put it off any longer, she opened her eyes but stared downward, on the floor. All she saw were sneakers, shoes and the intricate pattern of the beige rug shot through with random pellets of a darker brown. The conversation stilled. The blasted red she despised flamed across her cheeks, chasing away the tan she had acquired. Slowly, she repositioned herself into a sitting position, moving cautiously in deference to her head, and kept her hands kept tightly into fists in her lap. She didn't lift her eyes, only stared at her fisted hands. She didn't want to lift her head or meet the faces of the others in front of her. She didn't say a word. Instead, she wondered what the others would say to her.

Jocelyn was the first. Understanding that Trixie was most likely feeling betrayed, hurt, and deeply confused, she quickly slipped down next to her on the sofa and attempted to take Trixie's hand in one of hers. She was not surprised when Trixie jerked back from her and stared at her like she was some kind of an object best left on under a microscope's lens but it still shook her. It had been expected but she wasn't prepared for it. It hurt. Her voice wavered when she started off by asking, deeply concerned and worried for her charge, "Are you feeling all right, Trixie? You took a hard hit back there." She reached out to study the bump hidden behind shoulder-length blonde curls but Trixie ducked away from her touch again.

"I didn't take a hard hit," she grumbled under her breath, her blue eyes swirling with an undeterminable amount of emotions. "Someone hit me," she corrected haughtily, giving her head a slight toss. If it wouldn't have been perceived as a sign of weakness, she would have scooted as far away from Jocelyn as she could. Trixie stared unseeingly at the large painting across the wall and missed the vibrant flash of remorse on Jocelyn's face.

"That would have been me," a male voice announced grimly. He grimaced when she whipped her face around to meet his. Smiling wanly, he ran a hand through his black hair and said sheepishly, "Hi, Trixie. I'm Adam. Sorry about your head. I wouldn't have knocked you out if I had realized who you were."

"That's…refreshing," Trixie murmured sarcastically, finding an odd satisfaction in seeing the dried blood on his bottom lip. At least she had made some kind of a mark on him. Her hand came up to touch the tender bump on the side of her head. Luckily it was under her hair. She doubted if anyone would be able to see it. The only way they would know it was there was to feel it. Although it didn't make any difference, she fleetingly wondered what he had hit her with.

Determinedly squashing any guilt that he felt, knowing that Jocelyn was feeling more than enough for the both of them, Max went with the only course available to him: humor. He chuckled lightly at her reply. Pointing at her head, he declared jokingly, "We don't have to make that many introductions, Trixie. You've already met Adam. Not with the best or most welcoming of introductions, I have to admit. You'll probably be feeling the effects of it for awhile. I will speak up for him, though. You should know that he is not in the habit of rendering someone unconscious as his first choice of greeting. He generally has better manners than that. You were the lucky one."

Trixie lifted her eyebrows, her confusion evident in her blue eyes. She nodded once. For some reason, she wasn't as intimidated by him as she usually was. She didn't feel exactly comfortable in his presence but, considering the fact that she had been knocked out and had recently seen him conversing with a known criminal, she was surprisingly relaxed. "Tell me about it," she answered dryly.

His face lit up with mirth. Nothing she could have said would have pleased him more. Max tapped Jocelyn on the shoulder, wanting to share his delight with Trixie's response with her, and then slid an arm around her. He could feel the tension in her shoulders and mentally promised Jocelyn a full massage when they had the opportunity. "Well, let me formally introduce you to another person you've been acquainted with, whether you wanted to be or not." He reached behind, drew the protesting man forward. "Trixie Belden, this is Shane. You may recall him from the coffee shop incident of a few months ago," he added with an absurd amount of good cheer, as if the incident hadn't been a robbery that Trixie had witnessed firsthand.

Suddenly more bewildered than frightened, Trixie stared at Shane, who mumbled an incoherent greeting at her that she couldn't decipher. Shaking her head, her gaze swung to an obviously embarrassed Adam, a highly amused Max and finally ending back at Jocelyn, who was wringing her hands with a flushed face and wouldn't meet Trixie's eyes. The epitome of guilt. Having experienced the feeling more times than she cared to count in her life, Trixie recognized it immediately. Her curiosity went on red alert while she wondered why Jocelyn seemed to be the most upset out of them all. Left with nothing else to say, she muttered, lines of worry wrinkling her forehead, "What the hell going on here?" For the first time she understood that it was something much more complex than her mind could ever dream up or her legendary bloodhound nose could sniff out.

"Why don't the rest of you leave us alone?" That same efficient, authoritative voice said from behind. She had forgotten all about him, hadn't even realized that he had left his position by his desk and had moved behind them. Trixie glanced in his direction. He was at the window, staring out over the ocean, with his back to them. The voice stirred up more memories other than their phone conversations from the summer but Trixie couldn't match it to the right ones.

As one, the four immediately started to leave. Jocelyn was the last. She leaned down and whispered quickly, her words for Trixie alone, "You'll understand soon, Trixie. It'll be fine. There's nothing for you to worry about. Truly, there's not. You're safe here. I'll talk to you later and answer any questions you may have then." She inhaled deeply and added nervously, "Don't hate me, okay?" Before Trixie could answer, she was gone, leaving her in the room with a complete stranger.

If Jocelyn's words were meant to appease, it didn't work. It had the opposite effect instead. Warily, even more worried than she had been before, Trixie inched forward onto the edge of the cushions. Her feet nervously tapped on the carpet. Her hands were clasped together tightly. And her face, her ever expressive face, was an open canvass. It carried every single strong emotion for anyone to see. As the seconds ticked by, she waited on the sofa for the elusive boss to start his explanation to her. Her head continued to ache. She rubbed at it and then saw a large hand holding out two aspirin and a bottle of water to her. Flinching away, she didn't accept it.

He wasn't surprised. She didn't have any reason to trust him or anyone else that had been in the room. "It's okay, Trixie," he assured her soothingly and put the items down on an end table. He came around to the front of the sofa, let her get a good, long look at him, and then watched her closely. He knew to the second when she recognized him. "You can trust me. You already have, if you remember correctly."

"You're Chief Ogilvie!" Trixie stared at him in absolute disbelief, recalling, him immediately from the time the Bob-Whites helped him discover gun smugglers along the Mississippi River. He looked older. The lines on his face had deepened. His hair had started to gray at the temples. His eyes…they were more business-like than she remembered. And they had hardened during the four years since she had seen him last. Or maybe they had always been hard and he hadn't allowed anyone to see it. Either way, it didn't matter. She hadn't known who he really was, that much was certain.

"Yes," he confirmed, a slow smile spreading across his face. It wasn't warm and friendly but it did soften his features a bit. He ran a finger along the name plate on his desk, which read 'Chief Leighton N. Ogilvie.'

She drew back, her head tilted to the side, and spoke without thinking, "What are you doing here? This isn't the Secret Service. It's a private investigative agency. Why are you here?"

Pushing aside the nameplate, he set a hip down on his desk and looked at her. "We should probably start at the beginning. I wasn't working for the Secret Service when I met you in Missouri, Trixie," he informed her, ready to start the explanation she was demanding, and overlooking her question about his presence at the agency.

"Yes, you were." Trixie wanted to get up and move but something about him made her stay very still, on the sofa. If she thought being around Max had been intimidating, she was wrong. Chief Ogilvie was far worse. "I remember it perfectly. You were the chief of the St. Louis division of the Secret Service. I was there. The Bob-Whites were there. We saw your building. We were questioned in your building. We saw you and talked to you, numerous times."

"I did present myself as a member of the Secret Service, Trixie." He shook his head and picked up a pen. Twirling it through his fingers, he started ticking off the answers to her questions. "It was a pretense. I was only posing as a Secret Service agent, as were the rest of my agents with me. It is true that I was there working on the case for Diego Martinez, aka Pierre Lontard. I was leading the group of agents that were searching for him and for the guns he was hoping to smuggle into South America. But I wasn't working for them. At that point in time, the Secret Service was our cover, our front, for our true agency, which is much more powerful and far-reaching than any agency you may be aware of."

"You're not making any sense to me," burst out of befuddled Trixie before she could stop herself. She remembered it all perfectly, the exciting Bob-White adventure on the Mississippi, but what he was saying to her was about as clear as the muddy river water. She shook her head sharply, forgetting the throbbing ache, and winced. Since the aspirin looked tempting, she gave in and swallowed them. "You're not. I don't understand any of this."

He held up his hand to halt the torrent of questions ready to come his way. "Wait, Trixie. Let me explain. I understand your confusion. I'll do my best to clear it up for you." He laid the pen down, stared at her, and started at the beginning, "I work for a secret agency, not the Secret Service. In fact, our agents are not allowed to talk of the true nature of their work in the outside world. They take on other jobs as covers. For instance, Jocelyn and Max technically work for the Anderson, Donnelly and Christopher Agency. That's what the tax man thinks. However, they are much more than mere private investigators. We are a secret. Few people even know about our existence. Those that have an inkling about us think we are more of a myth than an actuality."

Myth? Secret agency? Jobs as covers? Raising a quivering hand to her forehead, she wondered if she had been hit harder on the head than she had originally thought. "What are you talking about?" Trixie couldn't keep the questions down. She frowned at him, feeling the urge to bolt out of the room and get away as far and as fast as her legs could carry her.

He was losing her, could practically feel it, but didn't let it show. It wasn't the way he wanted to make the proposition to her. He had hoped she would have had at least two years under her belt at CU and that she would have become used to being away from her family. Since it wasn't an option, he went with what he had. The truth and, for the first time ever when he recruited a potential agent, he prayed that it was enough. He wanted her. She had the potential to be one of their best ever. With an outward calm, he continued, "Our agency. We don't have to answer to anyone, other than ourselves, of course. We take on assignments anywhere that is needed. Our jurisdiction isn't relegated to one small corner of the globe. It is the entire world. We're very powerful and are able to supersede any law enforcement agency at any given time, including the Secret Service, the FBI, the CIA and Interpol. You name it, we have done it, and then some."

Pursing her lips together, Trixie ran a hand through her rioting curls. She stayed where she was and tried again to get an answer that she could hold onto. "I know who you are but who _are_ you?"

"CDA," Chief Ogilvie answered proudly, his mouth set in a thin, straight line. "We're the CDA."

"That doesn't…" Then she paused, remembering the tattoo she had seen on Shane's left wrist as he took on the role of a robber. She had seen the first two letters, small and italicized, in his tattoo. "CDA," she murmured to herself in a blinding flash of insight. He had turned his wrist over before she had read the A but it made sense, in a unique sort of way.

"Criminal Defense Agency," he clarified for her, his words ringing with a conviction she couldn't deny. "We were originally intended to be a reactive agency, to step in after a crime was committed and track the perpetrators down to deal with them as we saw fit, but we have evolved in the years since our creation. We're not strictly defense anymore. We are extremely proactive and search out any way possible that we can to take out the criminals in the world. We're the good guys, Trixie. We're the ones who go after the bad guys without a second thought." And without a mound of red tape or even the long arm of the law standing in-between them. They had the power to do anything they wanted, to right the wrong as they saw fit.

It didn't make a lick of sense to her. Her face reflected her confusion. She couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that Chief Ogilvie wasn't who he had pretended to be, all those years ago, or that the private investigative agency as she knew it to be was something quite different. "I'm so confused," she admitted lowly.

"It is a lot to take in." He steepled his fingers under his chin, understanding her confusion. Attempting to make it clearer for her, he continued his explanation, "We are covert, as I said, and we are the very best. We search out criminals, hunt them down, capture them or dispose of them, and all without the nightmares of bureaucratical red tape. We can handle anything, anywhere, at anytime, without the thought of possible repercussions afterwards. Free reign, Trixie. We have it and we utilize it to the best of our abilities. Our jurisdiction is the entire world. And we answer to no one else. There isn't a higher agency than ours, Trixie. We are the top." There was an arrogance to him that led credence to the astonishing information he was giving her.

She couldn't help but note how he referred to it. Ours. We. While she was in a state somewhere beyond confused, a small part of her was flattered by the fact that he included her in on it. She worked hard to crush that part of her. She didn't believe that she wanted to be a part of it. It sounded too far-fetched and certainly too dangerous for her own liking. "The top? What do you do?"

One lip curled up in a portrait of arrogance. "We do what you like to do, Trixie. Nothing more; nothing less. We investigate. We search out clues. We take care of the bad guys. It's as simple as that. The best is that we get to do it without answering to anyone. At all. There aren't any Sergeant Molinsons waiting in the wings, ready to lecture us after it is all said and done," he added, wanting to bring in a little levity into the discussion and to make a connection to her own life.

Under any other circumstances, from any other person, she would have laughed. As it was, she wasn't absolutely certain if she believed him. It bothered her that he knew about Sergeant Molinson. On the tip of the tongue to ask him why he knew something important about her personal life, she bit it back. "If I were my brother Mart, I could come up with some really impressive word to describe what you're telling me. All I can think of is that this sounds like a television show or a kids' Saturday morning cartoon," she murmured quietly.

"It is hard to believe that what I am telling you is the truth. I know. I understand your dilemma. That's one of the reasons why I hoped to invite you in later, when you were older and had more experience here." He shook his head and sighed. There wasn't anything he could do about it now except try to explain it to her and bring her in. Her curiosity had done her in, as surely as Adam's quick reaction to her presence.

"Invite me in?" She felt like she was parroting everything he said back at him. It made her feel stupid, young, and very, very naive. "What do you mean by that?'

He didn't hesitate. His words rang true with conviction, hoping that she would hear how much they wanted her to work for them. "We want you, Beatrix Belden. We want you to join us, to become an agent for the CDA. We want to train you and then set you loose on all of the criminals in the world." She had the makings of an amazing agent, if only she would agree to it.

"You want me, little Trixie Belden from Sleepyside, to become some kind of a super secret agent?" Her spark of laughter was tinged with a desperate mixture of hysteria and disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me. Sergeant Molinson, as you just said, wouldn't even consider me for a summer internship this past year at our police station. There's no way you can be serious. Why on earth would you want me to join your organization?"

"Your Sergeant Molinson is a good police officer but he is rather shortsighted," Chief Ogilvie replied, straight-faced. "He never acknowledged the truth of your potential, even after you gift-wrapped criminal after criminal for him. He hardly had to lift a finger while you solved countless of Sleepyside's problems for him. You were remarkable."

"Ah…thank you, I guess." The need to get up couldn't be contained any longer. She shot out of her seat and started pacing the carpet, nervous over the fact that he knew so much about her life.

He watched her, could practically feel the energy that she needed to burn off. "Basically, you need to know that we have had our eye on you for a long time. I, as well as my agents, were very impressed with you when we worked together in Missouri." He started to tick off some of the important things she had done. "Your doggedness caught my attention. You managed to find the map that was key to our operation. You outwitted Lontard, as well as my well-trained agents, and you were even instrumental in saving your life and that of your friend when you were kidnapped. If you hadn't pushed that key under the doorway, I doubt if you would have been found alive. Yes, Trixie. I was impressed with you and your ingenuity. We've followed your progress carefully ever since. The list of successful arrests kept right on growing. That is why we want you to consider joining our agency. No," he corrected himself hastily. "That's not right. We don't want you to consider joining us. We want you to do it. We want you to be our next agent."

Her blue eyes widened as it sank in. They wanted her. They really wanted her. She rubbed her head, felt the bump one of the agents had given her, and, for one of the first times in her life, stepped back cautiously from the unknown. "I'm not really certain about all of this," she admitted, inching her way towards the door. "It's just too fantastic for me to believe."

"No. I can see that." He kept his hands at his side, wished he could take back the blow that had knocked her out. He didn't need to chastise his agent Adam for it. The man was already doing enough of it on his own. "You would be a valuable asset to our organization."

Her head was spinning on information overload. There was one important piece of information she needed to know about. "And the scholarship to California University, the summer job here, as well as my practicum placement…" Trixie's voice trailed off into a hush as the magnitude of what had happened hit her full on, with the force of a Mack truck.

He interrupted her, calmly, soothingly, prepared for the next line of questioning. "It was all part of our plan. When you applied for the scholarship, we made the decision to offer you two options: the standard one and the full ride to California University. We wanted you out here but we couldn't force you to come to San Diego. You had to make the choice on your own. I was ecstatic when you called the scholarship committee over the summer and accepted the full scholarship. We wanted to start training you as a potential agent for the CDA as soon as possible, even without your knowledge or acceptance."

"Training me?" She remembered the incident in the coffee shop and shuddered in remembered fear. Covering her hand over her mouth in astonishment, she declared lowly, "The coffee shop. The robbery there. That was planned, wasn't it? It was planned for my benefit." It wasn't a question but a statement of truth. She waited, watching him out of huge blue eyes, for his answer.

"Yes." Walking over to the window, he gazed out over the ocean and gave her a few minutes to let it sink in but didn't tell her about the other tests. He figured she was smart enough to discover that they had intentionally planted the 'criminal' for her to find, both in the files and also in San Diego, and that they had placed the wallet on the beach, with only the barest amount of clues in it to see if Trixie could track down the owner. All were plans to see how she reacted to different situations. She had passed all three of them with flying colors. "Agents have to be able to handle themselves under all types of strenuous situations. They have to be ready for the unexpected. If they aren't, they could get seriously hurt or die."

Good Lord, it was beyond anything she had ever imagined. She took another step towards the door, this one larger and more forceful. "I, ah, I think I'd like to go home," she mumbled weakly, unable to make her voice as strong as she wanted it to. When referring to home, she wasn't certain if she meant her apartment or Crabapple Farm. All she knew was that she wanted out of his office and now.

"In a minute." He followed her slowly, trying not to make her think he was stalking her and damned the fates for throwing them together now. It was blatantly obvious that she wasn't ready to hear what he was sharing with her. If anything, she was getting ready to run, as far and as fast as she could. He made a mental note to get in touch with Jocelyn, to have her act as damage control. When he reached her, he put his hands into his pockets and waited until she brought her eyes up to meet his. "This is a fabulous opportunity, Trixie. Not everyone is cut out to work for the CDA. We only recruit the best. The best," he reiterated strongly. "That's you, Trixie. You will be the best. I've seen it in you. So has Max and Jocelyn. It's rough and needs some fine-tuning but it is definitely there. You would make a superior agent, if you decide to join us."

"Yeah, well…hmmm." She didn't know how to respond and blushed ferociously at the compliment.

"You need to take some time, to consider the opportunity," he told her softly. Going gentle wasn't his strength. He, as well as the majority of agents under his thumb, much preferred action over words. He reached out and opened the door for her, showing her that he was willingly letting her go and that she had nothing to fear from him.

"I don't know what to think or even how to react. This is insane. I can't help but feel like it's being forced on me," Trixie admitted in a quiet voice.

A quick chuckle rolled up and out of him. It softened his face, made him appear to be not quite as authoritative and commanding as before. "No, it's not. I can assure you of that. You have free choice here, Trixie. No pressure…well, maybe a little," he admitted with another chortle. "But we won't force you into anything you do not want to do. If you decide not to join us, we will not pursue you. I promise you that. The decision is, ultimately, yours."

Her mouth opened and closed but not a sound squeaked out. She wasn't certain what she was going to say. She knew without a doubt that she wasn't about to agree to his proposition and, yet, the no didn't tumble off of her lips like she thought it should have. More than perplexed, she had been hit with too much information all at once and couldn't complete a rational thought, let alone offer a satisfactory answer.

He read her face without any difficulty. Pure and vivid confusion. Offering her time to think about her decision wasn't his first choice; he wanted an answer then and there. It wasn't to be, not yet, and he had to go with the hand he had been dealt. "Take your time. Think about it. Really think about it," he stressed again and grabbed a pen and a post-it note from his desk. After hastily scribbling down a phone number, he offered her the note and pressed it into her hand when she stared at it blankly and didn't reach for it right away. "You can get in touch with me through this phone number. It's private. You can let me know your decision after the holiday."

The number written on the fluorescent green piece of paper stared back at her. Trixie unconsciously folded it into fours and slipped it into the front pocket of her jeans, her fingers brushing over her thumb drive. She couldn't help but wish that she hadn't left her thumb drive at the agency. As far as she was concerned, it would have been better for her to remain ignorant. "Thanks, Chief Ogilvie. I guess," she mumbled as an after-thought and took a large step through the door.

"One more thing." He waited until she turned back to him, one foot in the office and the other in the hallway. She wanted to bolt. His lips curved up at the ends in resignation. "I want to stress to you again that the CDA is secret. You can't talk of it to anyone, Trixie. Not your friends or your family. This has to be between you and the agency and it has to remain between you and the agency. There is no other option. It's for everyone's safety; you, your friends, your family, and for the agents here." He stared her down, hoping that he had impressed upon here the importance of keeping the secret to herself, and to not share it with her close friends and family.

Looking dazed, she mustered up enough energy for a curt nod of acknowledgement and slipped the entire way through the door, almost expecting him to haul her back in for more of the crazy conversation. He didn't. He let her go. She glanced back over her shoulder when the door closed, blocking him from her view. Her eyes swung around to encompass the entire small outer-office. Having suspected that any number of the members of the quartet from before would be awaiting her outside the office, she was shocked to find it empty. There wasn't anyone waiting to accost her, to keep her in the agency, or to try and talk more with her. Her confidence grew as she walked down the hall and then practically flew down the stairs, towards the front door. Again, no one stepped out to talk to her. She didn't look back but rushed for the front door and the safety of the air outside, completely missing the two sets of concerned eyes watching her flight from Linda's deserted desk.

A flick of the wrist, a push of the front door, and she was out. Taking one large relieved breath of fresh air, she hurried away, letting the door close behind her. Her feet ate up the sidewalk, without even a backward glance at the small building, into the approaching evening. Going to her apartment wasn't an option. She knew that Jocelyn would find her there. Instead, she veered off the street and rushed towards the place where she could hopefully be alone: the beach. When she reached it, Trixie slowly sank down onto the sand. Dropping her flushed face in her hands, Trixie didn't know what to think or do. Her thoughts were too varied and jumbled. She couldn't grasp the fact that she had been recruited to join an agency she had never even known existed. It went beyond her comprehension. She imagined if she closed her eyes tight enough, she would be able to block it all out. It didn't work. When her cell phone let out a merry chirp, her head snapped back. Trembling fingers pulled it out of her pocket. Taking the time to actually look at the caller id, she exhaled a breath she hadn't even known she was holding and answered the phone, hoping she sounded normal and not like a deranged lunatic.


	39. Chapter 39

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Thirty-Eight

"Hello, Dan," Trixie said into the phone, calling up as much cheer as she could and trying to disguise the turmoil within her. It would have to be him. He had the uncanny ability to always see straight through her, an ability he had displayed the very first time they had seen each other on that long-ago bus ride to school. Her nose crinkled while she gritted her teeth and waited for his response, hoping that he couldn't pick up on the fact that something was seriously bothering her from the many miles existing between them. Trixie tapped a nervous finger on the smooth sand under her fingertips and watched dispassionately as the sky became a dark violet.

"Hey, Trix! It's been too long since we talked. We haven't talked since the Thanksgiving holiday. I figured I would share my good news with you," Dan replied gleefully, his dark eyes gleaming with ill-concealed humor, and ready to boast. Stuffing a pillow behind his head, he leaned back against the wall and stretched his long legs out in front of him on the bed, making himself comfortable for the conversation ahead. He didn't think anything was suspicious when she didn't respond and continued after a short pause, "Here it is. I finished my last exam of the semester about an hour ago. No more exams for me, Trixie. My semester is officially finished. I thought I'd celebrate my good fortune by giving each and every one of our friends a call to find out how they are doing. You're next on my list."

"You're finished?" Trixie dredged up the energy to ask him. He expected it of her. She couldn't disappoint him. More importantly, she didn't want to alert him that something was off with her. An hour ago she would have been envious. Now, she had to almost invent the strength to hold up her end of their conversation. Chief Ogilvie, his league of special agents, and the information he had offered her circulated through her mind, causing her to chew anxiously on the inside of her lip. Her thoughts were too hard to combat. She had to concentrate hard to attempt to hold onto the thread of what Dan was saying.

"Oh, yeah," he gloated back, his voice as low and smooth as his laugh. He looked around his dorm room. His suitcases sat in the corner, filled to the brim and zipped up tightly. His roommate, the lucky sap, was already gone, having finished up the day before. "All finished. In fact, I'm staring at my suitcases right now. They're waiting for me. I'm all packed up and will be hitting the road to Sleepyside tomorrow morning. I thought about heading back today but decided against it. Unfortunately for me, I had two exams today, one first thing in the morning and my last one in the late afternoon. I thought it would be better to get a full night's sleep instead of traveling. It was a long day for me." And grueling. Each exam had been heavy on the essay. No true/false, multiple choices for his professors, he thought with an inward sigh.

"Tell me about it," she muttered quietly into the phone, sympathizing with his declaration about his day. Only, she didn't have the simplicity of final exams to blame for her long day. She had something else to blame entirely. Betrayal. Confusion. Shock. And one hell of a proposition that didn't make any sense to her at all.

He didn't hear her and declared, "Oh, Trix. I can't even begin to tell you what it feels like. It is awesome to be all finished with the semester." He reached over and closed a textbook that had been left wide open on his desk with a satisfying thump.

It was difficult holding onto the content of the conversation. Dan, who she cared for deeply, could have been offering her the secret meaning of life and she still wouldn't have been able to concentrate on him or what he was saying. Trixie squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to block out the recent scene and the voices from Chief Ogilvie's office, and failed. Miserably. Aware that she needed to say something before she unintentionally clued Dan in, she mumbled raspily, "Good for you."

Dan kicked off his sneakers, one at a time, and reached for the remote to turn on the television set he shared with his roommate. He started surfing through the channels, hoping to find something to watch that wasn't a sentimental holiday movie or a special. "I'm not complaining, mind you. I'm enjoying being completely and totally finished for the next five weeks." He turned down the holiday of episode of _The Brady Bunch_, made a face at Judy Garland singing and dancing across the screen from _Meet Me in St. Louis_, and ended up settling on a rerun of _The A-Team, _one that did not have any mention of the upcoming holiday or any type of joyful singing in it at all. He much preferred mindless action over super sweet sentimentality any day of the week. Satisfied, he set aside the remote. Crossing his hands behind his head, he blinked his eyes innocently and inquired, hoping that he was about to stir up a volatile response from her, "How about you, Trixie? Are you done yet?"

"Almost," she answered lowly into the phone, giving him the opposite of what he had expected. She didn't sniff, groan or complain. Instead, the words came out softly and quietly, almost by rote; she didn't have any emotion infused into her tone at all. "I only have a paper left to complete and one more exam to take. Then I'm done and am on my way home."

Mistaking her lethargic mumble because she still had more left in her semester, thinking that he had miscalculated how she would react, he chuckled. It felt great to have the entire semester under his belt. In his mind, there wasn't anything quite like the break between the fall and the spring semester. Over a month off with no requirements, exams, reading, or roommates. It couldn't be beat. It was pure heaven to any college student. The only tarnish to it was the start of the next semester, halfway through January. "Wait until you're completely finished, Trix. It's the best feeling in the world. So far, I'm the only Bob-White who is finished. You probably already know that the NYU branch is just starting their exams." With the mention of the NYU Bob-Whites, he waited, half in expectation, half in dread, for her response.

It didn't even register on her what he had said. She didn't make the connection between finals, NYU and Jim. "It does feel good to be almost finished," she remarked after another short period of silence.

A frown began to spread across his face, darkening with each passing second. Beginning to pick up on the fact that Trixie wasn't her normal, friendly, outgoing self, he toned down his teasing and attempted to pick out what was bothering her. Something was. Even the distance between them couldn't mask it. "So, you are nearly finished, too," he repeated, starting a fishing expedition to see if he could find out what was bugging her.

"Yeah. There's not much left for me." She felt the thumb drive in her pocket, cursed herself for leaving it in her computer at that damn agency. If she hadn't left it, then she wouldn't have had to go back and pick it up. However, she admitted on a sigh, she wouldn't have known the true purpose of the agency or what they really wanted with her, either. The situation was much too complex for her to contemplate, let alone carry on a conversation with one of her dearest friends. Hopefully pushing the thoughts away, she added, "I have to make a few corrections to a paper but it's nearly complete. I also have my last exam coming up. It shouldn't be too bad. I'm looking forward to coming home." Needing to do something physical, Trixie stood up and started walking down the beach, unmindful of her surroundings or the fact that her every move was being watched carefully.

She didn't sound enthusiastic. She didn't sound relieved to be nearly finished with her semester. She sounded strange. Worse, she sounded defeated. With warning bells ringing in his ears, bells that had nothing to do with the gunfire coming from his television screen, Dan pushed his way off the bed and started pacing the small square footage of his dorm room, in much the same way she was pacing along the beach. "You must be tired," he said, trying to get her to say more to him. "I know I am. Has it been a tough finals week for you?"

Not until today. It had nothing to do with school or her finals. She didn't voice them. "Unfortunately, yes," she answered, forcing a light, lilting laugh out of her lips that was completely foreign to her and only confirmed his belief that something was terribly wrong. "I guess I'll find out when I get my grades how well I did."

Grades weren't bothering her. He had witnessed her complaining about schoolwork often enough over the years. The only time school and grades had ever brought her down was if she was in danger of missing a Bob-White trip or a project. Whatever it was went deeper than school. Dan stopped pacing by a picture of the seven Bob-Whites he had taped up against the wall. Staring into the smiling face of the only redheaded member of their group, he erroneously settled onto what he thought was her issue. "You'll be home soon, Trixie." Taking a deep breath, steeling himself for her reaction, he added soberly, "And so will Jim."

Jim. Her mind had been full of him and the upcoming holidays when she had entered the agency over an hour ago. Amazingly enough, she hadn't thought of him once since she had left the building. She was much more bewildered and astonished about the information Chief Ogilvie and his group of lackeys had foisted off on her. But it was a handy excuse for her lackluster conversational skills with Dan. Even better, it held a good deal of truth. She grasped at the excuse he had given her with both hands, didn't let it go. "Yeah," she replied lowly, stopping her walk. She sank down onto the cool sand and wrapped an arm around her chest to keep herself warm. "Jim."

Dan's eyes zeroed in on the picture. Jim and Trixie, dead center, with the rest of the Bob-Whites flanking them, the way it had always been. They stood next to each other, their smiles the largest out of the group, and hands intertwined. He couldn't figure out why the two, whom he had believed to be an extremely solid couple, had managed to stumble, fall and break off into two separate directions. "What gives, Trix? You can tell me. I'll help you, if I can."

"I know." She released a long, painful sigh and stared out across the ocean as a breeze came by and lifted the edges of her curls. She hated the fact that she was only telling him half of the truth. "It is the break, Dan. I'm nervous. It'll be the first time I'll see Jim since…you know. He went to the camp; I moved out here to go to school and we haven't had any sort of contact since. I, ah, I'm a little wary. I don't know what to expect." Or even how to react. Being a person of reasonable intelligence, she realized she couldn't expect Jim to meet her with open arms.

Last summer. Trixie hadn't seen Jim since right before he left for his internship with the camp. They had gone through nearly six months of not seeing each other. Six months. An astonishing feat for two people who used to not be able to go a day or two without communicating in some way, shape or form. It should have made perfect sense that she would be nervous about seeing Jim again. They all expected it and were prepared to help their two friends in any way they possibly could. And yet…Dan couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else wrong with her that she was keeping from him. He braced himself before calling her on it. "Trix, I'm not buying that. At least, not completely. Try again. You've got something else floating around in that fascinating brain of yours. You had to have known that this time was coming. I asked it before but I'll repeat it. What gives?"

Feeling unbelievably small, insignificant and lost under the wideness of the open and darkening sky above her, Trixie drew her knees up to her chest. Even though it wasn't the complete truth behind why she was currently upset and concerned, she shared haltingly, "It is that, of course. I haven't been looking forward to it. But I, oh, gleeps …" She actually looked up, for the first time realizing that darkness was encroaching upon her and how late it was. Sucking in a sharp breath, she let the words rush out of her. "Over Thanksgiving, I kept getting the feeling that everyone knew something about Jim that you didn't want me to know, if you know what I mean," she said with a helpless sort of giggle. "When I mentioned it to Mart, he said that I was going to have to talk to Jim about it."

God, did they ever know something about Jim that they weren't telling her. Jim's sudden switch in majors and in his career plans. They had agreed as one before Trixie arrived at Crabapple Farm that it wasn't their place to tell her about such a momentous change in Jim's life. It had to be Jim. She wasn't going to like it, he predicted accurately, and wondered how he was going to satisfy her never-failing curiosity without spilling the news to her. "What made you think that?" he questioned carefully, already plotting out a course to keep the news to himself. He reached into the small dorm-room sized refrigerator and pulled out a can of soda. The carbonated liquid was refreshing on his suddenly dry throat.

Trixie didn't answer his question, stunned that she was right. Momentarily forgetting about her recent talk with Chief Ogilvie, she ran a hand through her blonde curls, and whispered quietly, heartbrokenly, "He has a girlfriend, doesn't he?" She prayed that he didn't have a positive answer to her question.

"A girlfriend? Jim?" Sputtering, Dan choked on his soda. He put the can down before it did anymore damage. Her assumption couldn't be any farther from the truth. He couldn't have been more incredulous about her thoughts if she had told him that there really was a dinosaur rampaging out in the preserve. Clearing his throat, he said, "I'm not in the city, Trixie, but from what your brothers, Honey and Di have told me, Jim has only two things that keep him busy. He studies and he broods. That's about it. He has to have the absolute worst social life ever out of any senior at NYU. There is definitely not a girlfriend. In fact, the potential for him acquiring a girlfriend any time soon is nil to none. I think the only people he talks to are Brian, Honey, Mart and his professors."

She exhaled slowly, letting Dan's emphatic words chase away that single worry. He didn't have a girlfriend, she thought with relief. In fact, it sounded like he didn't have much of a life outside of his schoolwork. Why that should make her feel relieved and grateful, she didn't want to admit, not even to herself. "Thank goodness," she settled for instead.

Dan nodded his head. He could practically feel the relief through the two wireless devices and breathed his own sigh, believing he had settled her question without giving away Jim's new plans. Since they were on the topic of new significant others, he inquired, going tit-for-tat, just to see what she would say, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No!" burst out of her, sharply, shrilly and immediately. "Of course not. I don't…" Then she stopped, realizing what Dan was doing to her. Her social life wasn't much better than Jim's. The only people she had spent any amount of time with had been Jocelyn and Heidi from the agency. After the information she had recently stumbled upon, she didn't count them as friends any longer. She didn't know what to classify either of them as. All she knew was that she couldn't trust them or any of the other people she had met at the agency. "I don't do much," she settled on, her lips pursed in embarrassment.

"I didn't think so." Dan cradled the phone to his ear and, after a quick inward debate, decided that it was time someone talked to one of them about facing their issues head-on. He hoped that she listened to him. "You realize, Trix, that unless you and Jim settle the problems between the two of you and move on, hopefully with each other, there will eventually be a new girlfriend in his life, the same as there will someday be a new boyfriend in yours. It will happen once the two of you stop hurting so much. What do you think about that?"

She didn't like it. In fact, she despised it. It made her skin start to crawl. Trixie couldn't imagine herself dating any other man. And Jim…she was afraid she would tear out the eyes of any other girl he so much as looked at, let alone wanted to see on a consistent basis. "Oh, gleeps," she grumbled, disgruntled, and unable to come up with anything else satisfying to say.

He rolled his eyes, pleased that he had been able to break through and get to the heart of the problem. Unaware that Trixie had more on her mind than Jim, he declared forcefully, ready to go in for the kill, "You've got to promise me that you're going to talk to Jim during the break, Trixie. You have to. The two of you can't go on like this forever. According to Mart, Brian and Honey, Jim is more like a ghost at the apartment. He's focused solely on school and is intentionally staying out of anything else. From what you've said to me over the semester, I can tell that you're practically in the same boat. Whatever happened between the two of you has affected you the same way it has Jim. You have to talk to him. I want your word on it, Trix."

He was right. She knew it. She couldn't keep worrying over every possible sighting or flinching every time someone spoke his name. "Yeah," she whispered lowly.

Uncertain if he had heard her correctly, Dan straightened and demanded, "Say that again, Trix."

"Yes," she repeated, more forcefully. She twirled a curl around her finger and declared, "I'll talk to Jim over the holiday break, Dan. I'll see to it." She didn't have a clue on how to instigate the talk or on even what to say but she would do it and not because she had promised Dan. It had to be done, for both of their sakes.

Her promise was as good as gold. She rarely ever went back on a given word. If she did, she always explained why afterwards. Nodding his head sagely, relieved that she was willing to talk to Jim, he remarked, his earlier jovial mood returning, "Good. Now that we've settled that, tell me about your travel plans. When are you coming home?"

"Sunday," she answered, glad that they were now on a conversation where she didn't have to think or feel and could offer answers without feeling like a total and complete idiot. Jim was too complicated, as was the issue with Chief Ogilvie. "It's Sunday for me. I'm flying into JFK in the afternoon. Since Brian and Mart are still going to be studying and taking exams, Dad is driving in to the airport to pick me up again, just like he did for Thanksgiving. Brian offered to let me stay at his apartment until his finals were finished, but, umm, I didn't think that was such a brilliant idea." Her face colored at the thought. Sleeping on the sofa in the same small living place that housed Jim hadn't sounded like an acceptable plan.

Relieved that he had got through to what he believed to be the heart of the matter, Dan visibly relaxed and chuckled. Gifted with a strong imagination, he could easily visualize the scene that she wanted to avoid. It would be extremely awkward, for all involved. "That's probably for the best," he responded, deadpanned.

Trixie felt a bubble of laughter come out of her. It wasn't loud and it didn't last long but it was a true laugh. "Tell me about it," she said, understanding him perfectly.

"Well, I've got to give your almost-twin a call. I'm feeling the urge to gloat about my exams to him." His grin was wicked sharp, his normal humor restored. "Good luck with your paper and your last exam, Trix. I'll stop by Crabapple Farm and see you. Have a safe flight home." Dan gave a cheerful farewell and then hung of the phone, confident that he had helped put Trixie on the right path for solving her problems.

The shadowy night was wrapping itself around her like blanket. Trixie took note of it after she ended the call with Dan. Realizing she had lost track of the time, she stood up, absently brushed off the sand and started for the sidewalk a few yards away only to be brought up short. Her apartment. In Jocelyn's apartment building. She didn't have to be a rocket scientist to know that Jocelyn would be lying in wait for her there. She didn't want to go back to it. Uncertain what to do next, she stood, a pillar of befuddlement and uncertainty, alone, and on the apparently deserted beach.

It wasn't deserted. Taking a deep breath, feeling more guilt than she had expected to feel, Jocelyn called out loudly from the shadows. "Trixie. Wait up." She scurried over to Trixie, the chunky heels of her dress shoes slipping in the unevenness of the sand, and grimaced at the stubborn set of Trixie's body. An experienced agent, she didn't need her job experience to know that Trixie was well and truly pissed off at her.

"I didn't want to go back to my apartment because I thought I'd run into you there." Trixie threw a sullen look over her shoulder at the exact moment the moon finally broke through the wealth of clouds above. It illuminated the lines on her face, furious and unfriendly. "Looks like I was wrong."

The way Trixie was staring at her only made her feel worse Because she felt uncomfortable, she covered it behind a sigh of exasperation. "For goodness sake, you don't have to avoid me, Trixie. You can go home, you know. I'm not going to abduct you or hurt you or force you into doing something you don't want to do. You will be perfectly safe at your place. You don't have to worry about me. I won't hurt you," she repeated, hoping that it would sink in to her charge.

Hands on her hips, grimacing her displeasure, Trixie looked away from Jocelyn. A few twinkling lights joined the moon. She idly counted the stars, came up with eighteen, before she mumbled, "You've already hurt me."

The quietly uttered words pierced through her armor. Having been the recipient of much worse through her years as an agent with the CDA, Jocelyn had thought that she was immune to the displeasure of others, especially when it was directed at her. She wasn't. Her own distress was briefly reflected on her face before she resolutely smoothed it away. "I know," she answered regretfully, taking full responsibility for her duplicity. "That's one of the reasons why I'm here. We need to talk, Trixie. Tonight."

She tossed back her head, finding it odd that she was going to have a talk with a source of another problem in her life right after she had promised to have one with Jim. Eyeing Jocelyn, she decided that she would rather talk to her than to Jim right now. It was easier. "Maybe I've already done all the talking I want to do with you and your friends. I could be all talked out, you know," she replied smartly.

She wasn't going to make it easy. She swallowed a sigh. Jocelyn motioned towards the sidewalk and offered, "We can walk back to our apartment building together. It wouldn't be wise to have our conversation out here, in the open. We should do it inside. You'll be free to ask any question that you want. I'll be much freer to answer them."

"You don't like doing much out in the open, do you?" Trixie threw the question back at her, practically daring Jocelyn to deny it, and arched a single eyebrow. "It always has to suit your needs, doesn't it?"

Jocelyn's blush was fast and furious. Her fingers tapped restlessly against her thin black skirt. The wind picked that moment to ripple by. She shivered with its advent, wished that she had remembered to grab her matching jacket from her office. "Here, then," she said quietly, knowing that she didn't have a chance in hell of getting Trixie back to the apartment building without talking to her first. She glanced up and down the beach. Luckily there wasn't anyone around. And, as she noticed the glint of a set of familiar pale blue eyes a good ten feet away, there wasn't going to be. She nodded once in acknowledgement, feeling safer to answer any questions of Trixie's, and turned back to Trixie.

With her hands folded defiantly across her chest, Trixie stared her down. "Well, Jocelyn?" she declared haughtily. "I'm waiting."

Jocelyn came closer. "I want to apologize, Trixie," she said, imploring the younger woman to see the truth of it in her eyes. "I didn't like deceiving you. It wasn't something I wanted to do especially after I met you. I didn't have a choice. I don't know if you can understand that or not. I know the chief talked with you and told you about the CDA. I understand that you have to be feeling very confused and betrayed right now."

"You don't need to be patronizing to be me or pretend to be understanding." Trixie looked past Jocelyn, refusing to meet her concerned gaze, and stared off over the horizon. She watched the waves come in and out, thought that the sound of the waves crashing against the sand should have been lulling and soothing. She came to the conclusion that night on the beach was just as beautiful as the daytime.

Reaching her, breaking through the barrier that was nearly tangible, was her only goal. Chief Ogilvie had demanded it of her. However, Jocelyn didn't know how to do it. The stubborn look on Trixie's face was unnerving, as was the complete lack of friendliness. She honestly hadn't thought Trixie had it in her to be cool or aloof. She was wrong. "Everything our chief told you is the truth. Everything. I can't say more than that right here but it is true. We are the good guys, Trixie."

"You lied to me, Jocelyn." She turned away from her fascination with the Pacific Ocean and met her gaze squarely. "You, Max, Heidi and everyone else at that damn office. You lied to me from the second I met you at the airport. You lied to me every time I came in to work. Worse, you and your cronies set me up to be at the scene of the robbery at the coffee shop to see how I would react to it. To top it all off, one of your friends gave me a nice lump on the back of my head." She tapped her sore spot. "He knocked me out, Jocelyn. How the hell am I supposed to forget about that?"

When Trixie put it like that, it didn't sound good. Jocelyn took a tentative step forward, closing the gap between them, and was mildly relieved to see that Trixie stood her ground and didn't move back. "The robbery was Max's idea," she shared lowly so that only Trixie could hear. "I preferred staying with the tests to promote your memory but Max wanted to see how you would react in the field. You passed with flying colors, by the way. Shane, the 'thief', had to leave the area. Today is his first day back in San Diego. We were all impressed with the way you handled the situation."

Trixie scowled with disdain, not even close to being flattered by Jocelyn's explanation. "If you think I am thrilled by your words, you're sorely mistaken." If it wouldn't have been childish, she would have given Jocelyn her back and stomped away in a huff, much like she had done when she was a teenager. Instead, she stayed put, her mouth set in an even, thin line and her eyes a cool, frosty blue.

She had taken down assorted criminals of different shapes and sizes. Her list of completed missions was impressive and was only matched by Max's. However, she couldn't ever remember feeling so useless, lost and adrift. Correctly recognizing the fact that she liked and respected Trixie, and, more importantly, that she wanted Trixie to like and respect her back, Jocelyn murmured, "No. I don't suppose you would be. It is a little too late to offer you a compliment on your reaction now, isn't it?"

"You think?" Trixie barked out a short, humorless laugh. With eyes slitted a furious, curious blue, she demanded, "Answer me. I think I deserve an honest one now. Everything was carefully masterminded to fit your end, wasn't it? From my living arrangements to my placement at the agency, it was all made by you and your people. Looking back, I guess I should have suspected something was off." She laughed again and slapped a hand against her thigh. "I mean, come on. You guys gave me a full scholarship. I'm not a good student and I certainly didn't get the SAT scores to deserve one. Even more suspicious, the scholarship didn't even require me to maintain any sort of a GPA! I can't believe I didn't suspect that something was off right from the beginning."

Since she wanted to wring her hands, Jocelyn forced them to stay still. "We wanted to entice you out here, Trixie. We thought it would be best to start you here, in San Diego, since this is the home of our agency. The other plans were necessary because we wanted to keep you close and, hopefully, begin introducing you into our agency. Nothing more. We don't mean you any harm at all."

There was that royal 'we' again. It seemed as if the agents all had the same mindset. Trixie shook her head, wondering when her life had been turned into some kind of a melodramatic soap opera and what she could do to stop it. "Well, if you really don't mean me any harm, then it should be okay for me to return to my apartment, right?" She whirled around and moved on steady feet through the sand.

"Yes." Her heels weren't any match for Trixie's sneakers. Jocelyn slipped them off and followed Trixie in her stocking feet, the black shoes dangling from her hands. When she caught up to her, she shared, staring straight ahead and the light of the moon catching the return of the blush of guilt to her cheeks, "You should probably know that I was also ordered to follow your communications. I've been accessing your cell phone calls, your text messages, and your emails ever since you came here. I don't listen in to your conversations but I made notations on who you called, how long it lasted and how frequently. I had to report it Chief Ogilvie, too."

Trixie stopped in midstride. Twirling around, she stared at Jocelyn out of large, blazing eyes. "You have got to be kidding me," she whispered hoarsely after a full minute of stunned silence.

"No." Jocelyn didn't duck from the fury although she cringed inside. "I hated doing it but it was part of my job. There really is no point of me telling you this except to show you that I am sorry and teach you about our agency. If you decide to join us, you'll find out that the job always comes first and sometimes you have to do something you may not want to do. You'll have to put aside your own personal thoughts and feelings. It happens to all of us at one time or another. This was one of those times for me. I did not like invading your privacy. Hell, I didn't like lying to you, either."

She started forward again, keeping her rampaging anger checked with a superhuman effort. "Is there anything else you think I should know?" Trixie posed the question with a scowl on her face and a disdainful sniff.

"A few things. Max and I came up with the idea for you to try and identify the criminal from the photo in the file. You did it on the first shot, by the way," she shared, a small grin wavering across her lips. When Trixie didn't look impressed, it slid away and she continued, "We also planted the wallet, too. It actually belonged to another agent, by the way. We made it purposefully difficult for you to track down his information. The fact that you were able to do it with only the limited resources available to a common person was astounding. You should be very proud of yourself."

Again, she didn't accept the compliment. The words rang false and hollow. "Anything else?" she wondered, her tone clipped and decidedly distant.

Jocelyn sighed again. Listing what they had done sounded horrible to her own ears. She was seriously impressed Trixie hadn't run screaming from her or attempted to deck her yet. "The only other thing I can think of is our choice to offer you the full scholarship to California University. It wasn't only because San Diego is the headquarters of the CDA. You've probably already figured out the other reason, though. We thought it would be best to get you out of New York and away from your family. None of our agents have ever had ties to their families. All of us have basically been alone in the world. You would be the first agent to ever have family and friends in their background. Our job is extremely dangerous, which is one of the reasons why we don't usually recruit agents who have close family or friends. Obviously, the chief is willing to make an exception for you."

Trixie had already figured the distance out for herself. As much as she would like to, she couldn't blame Jocelyn, Chief Ogilvie or the damn CDA for her move. Her fights with Jim had spearheaded her move. It didn't soothe Trixie any, though. She asked flatly, "Why would you go through all of this trouble for me?"

"You've got potential," Jocelyn responded truthfully, searching through her mind for any other way to reach the younger woman. "You have the makings of an amazing agent. You have exceptional instincts, a strong head on your shoulder, and have proven over and over again that you can solve unsolvable crimes, without help from the proper authorities. That's why we want you, Trixie. We want you because you have a sense of adventure, you are brave, and you are willing to do whatever you have to in order to right a wrong or to solve a crime."

"You realize you could have simply asked me, right?" Trixie inquired out of the corner of her mouth. "I don't know what answer I would have given you but I would have preferred honesty over all of the lies and subterfuge."

"Subterfuge, unfortunately, is one of our specialties," Jocelyn replied swiftly. "We can't do a lot out in the open. It's not an option. We never thought about simply asking you. If we had approached you and told you all of the information that you now know, you would have said no."

Quite true. Trixie couldn't argue with her about that. "That's what I'm going to say now, anyway," she shot back smoothly. "It would have saved all of you a bit of time and energy." And maybe she wouldn't have left Sleepyside. Maybe she would have stayed behind to face Jim and their problems. It unsettled her, the way she had grabbed onto the option to leave, and made her stomach tighten into a series of unbreakable knots.

"Oh, no, no! You can't give us your answer yet," Jocelyn proclaimed, shaking her head wildly. Her brown hair flew out before cascading back into its normal, smooth lines. "You have to listen to me and at least consider our offer. Please. Don't close your mind off to what could be."

"A life of lies and danger? A life where I would have to keep my job a secret from everyone that I love?" Trixie questioned sarcastically, with her infamous snort and a roll of her eyes. "Yeah, I don't think that's for me."

"What is for you, then?" Jocelyn tossed her head back and leveled her eyes on Trixie's stormy blue ones. With nothing to left to lose, she went on the offense. "It's not Jim Frayne, is it? You never mentioned him to me but I know he is the sole reason why you moved out here in the first place."

Trixie hissed out sharply. Hearing someone else bring up her relationship with Jim made her fury double. Jocelyn didn't have the right to say his name, let alone toss him in her face. "It's none of your business, Jocelyn," she snapped out, angered and turning bright red. "My life, and what I do with it, are not any of your concern."

Undeterred, Jocelyn pressed on. "Be that as it may, you need to hear the truth. You want to go home in defeat and hang out in quiet, little Sleepyside, New York, with your family and friends? That's fine. Go for it. But you are the one shutting off your huge potential. You would be the one keeping yourself from who you could be. And you could be great, Trixie Belden. You could be one of the best ever, if not the best. I can feel it, deep down in my bones."

"What the hell do you mean?" Fed up, Trixie wrapped her arms around her chest and stared out of narrowed eyes.

Reasoning and understanding hadn't done it. Anger was helping her sneak a small path through the resistance within the petite blonde. Understanding it, Jocelyn continued to ride its wave. "If you go back and stay back, you're going to maintain your status quo. Friend, sister, daughter. You'll have a nice life, with or without that ex-boyfriend of yours. But you'll always look back on this one moment and wonder _what if_. What if I hadn't turned it down? Would I be working in this small private detective agency, following cheating spouses or looking for lost pets? Or would I be doing something much more worthwhile, something that affects the entire good of the whole world? For me, there wasn't any other option. I chose excitement over humdrum."

Trixie stated quietly, emotionally exhausted and ready to call an end to the entire fiasco, "You lied to me, Jocelyn. You and everyone at…I'm not even certain what to call the agency anymore. How can I forget something like that?"

The quietness brought Jocelyn to a standstill quicker than if Trixie had hurled hard words or invectives at her. "You can't," she remarked immediately. "I don't expect you to. None of us do. What we hope is that you can overlook it and accept the amazing opportunity that you're being offered. It won't happen again. Only a handful of people in this world are ever offered a chance to join us. We don't recruit just anybody. They have to be special. They have to have potential."

Understanding that his partner needed assistance, and fast, Max stepped out of the shadows. With a lopping gait, he joined the two and smiled reassuringly at Jocelyn. "Hey, ladies," he greeted them with a cocky grin. Slipping an arm around Jocelyn's shoulders, he pressed her to him, noticing the astonishing amount of tension she was carrying within her, and gave a swift kiss to the top of her head, wishing he could do more for her. "I was just passing by and thought I'd stop in and see what was going on."

In other words, he had been watching them closely and realized she was in dire need of reinforcements. Jocelyn would have chuckled under ordinary circumstances. As it was, she snuggled a little deeper into his hold, needing the support that only he could offer. She hated feeling raw and exposed, as she did now. "Thanks for coming to help, Max."

Trixie drew back and studied the two intently. "How long have you two been a couple, anyway?" she wondered aloud, glad to get the focus off of her and onto something different.

"For just about ever," Max answered with a small grin and a squeeze for his girl.

"Isn't it frowned upon or discouraged?" Trixie couldn't help but ask.

"Only in the movies," he answered, chuckling softly, and staring down into Jocelyn's beloved features. He wanted to smooth away the lines of tension but he didn't. Instead, he met Trixie's inquisitive gaze square on. "Here, the powers that be don't have a problem with it unless it affects our job performance. So far, it hasn't. We do our best not to advertise our relationship but, well, we're not always that good at hiding it."

Jocelyn lifted her eyes heavenwards. That was an understatement. They were pretty bad at it, she realized with an inward groan, and getting worse about it as time went on. "Really, Trixie, the CDA is not governed by stifling rules or lofty, god-awful expectations. We're real people, with real thoughts and feelings, just like you. It's rare but we do make mistakes. It's obvious that we made a mistake on how to invite you in. We should have come clean with you from the very beginning. You're right about that. I'm truly sorry that we didn't."

"All right. Fair enough. We'll forget about it." The words of apology were sincere, as was the look in Jocelyn's eyes. While she didn't want to believe her, Trixie didn't have any choice but to accept it unless she wanted to be the most ungracious person ever. She wasn't comfortable around them, doubted if she ever truly would be again. "What about you two? Are you going to be agents forever?"

"The job-span of an agent isn't as long as a normal job," Max remarked, choosing his words carefully since they were out in the open and not in the most secured of places. Adam and Shane were out there, somewhere, guarding the perimeters and shooing away any potential listeners, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. "Most of us are not lifers, like Chief Ogilvie. Some burn out, others get tired, still others get hurt or, regrettably, die, and some simply lose their edge. When it's time to get out, people can without any thoughts of recriminations. I can't speak for Joss but I'm not ready to give it up."

Jocelyn frowned when he used her nickname but had to agree with him. There was something awfully seductive about having the power to do just about anything they wanted in the search of truth and in the name of justice. She wasn't finished with her job, although she was beginning to spin a beautiful little fantasy of a small house, with two children and a dog, and, of course, the handsome man besides her as her husband, in her mind. It would happen, she thought to herself, smiling secretly. In a few years. The need for excitement hadn't been appeased within her yet, exactly the same way it hadn't been drained out of Max. They had their entire lives in front of each other before they settled down into domestic and ordinary bliss. "Me, neither, Trixie. It's too much fun. You can't beat the rush of adrenaline you get when you solve a crime or help take care of a truly evil person. You've had a taste of it since you first started investigating criminals. But working for the CDA…it's beyond anything you've yet to experience. You would like it, too. I know it."

She wasn't certain about that. Biting her bottom lip, Trixie considered all of the information she had been given. While none of it made her feel any better, she wasn't furious anymore. Instead, she was merely tired and very confused. She felt the thumb drive in her pocket and recalled the schoolwork waiting for her with chagrin. It was time to put aside the fanciful and get ready to focus on reality. "I'm going to have to get going. I have a paper to finish and a test to study for."

Jocelyn reached out tentatively, touched her forearm, and waited for Trixie to turn back around. "I was told to tell you that if you decide to join us, your training can start right away, when you come back to San Diego in January. You won't have to attend a single class at the university ever again. You'll be on the roster and you'll receive a grade for each course but you won't have to do any course work at all. Max and I will instruct you instead. Then, when you're declared ready to go out in the field, you can start working for us."

"What?" Trixie's face briefly reflected her surprise.

"Sounds like a good deal," Max interjected jovially, well aware that she was not a huge fan of schooling of any kind, and gave an appreciative nod. Chief Ogilvie was much cagier than he had given him credit for. "You'll get the degree but not have to do any of the school work. Instead, you'd learn with the experts."

"Exactly." Jocelyn's eyes gleamed with intensity. "You'd graduate from CU with a degree in criminal justice that you would have to fall back on after your career is over with the agency. You would be in training instead while everyone else would think you were attending the university." She took a deep breath and explained slowly, "The training is hard, much harder than attending classes, reading a textbook or writing a paper, but it is worth it if it was you want."

"That's…interesting." Enticing was more like it. Her nose twitched at the decadently dangling carrot. Real life lessons were much more intriguing than a countless and monotonous series of lectures but...there was one hell of a catch to it. Was she willing? With even more information to consider, feeling like her head was about to explode or implode, Trixie inclined her head to the side. "So, if I say no again, are you going to follow me and hound me until I give in?" she wondered with an arched eyebrow, only half-joking.

"No," Jocelyn chuckled, sharing an amused look with Max. "It should be obvious to you that we do want you to become an agent. But we're not Section One. We won't force you, as the chief has already told you, and I will reiterate it to you yet again. We only want you to become a member if you want to join us. Otherwise, it wouldn't work," she finished with a tiny shrug.

"Section One?" Trixie repeated, taken aback and having no clue what Jocelyn was talking about.

"From _La Femme Nikita_?" At her continued blank look, Jocelyn explained, sharing the premise behind one of her favorite television shows of all time, "A rather sophisticated spy show from a few years back where the main character became a spy and was unable to leave the agency. We're not them or anything like them. You won't be forced into working for us. And, if you decide to become an agent, you won't be forced to stay with the agency, should you decide that you've had enough of secret agent work. You have a once-in-a-lifetime chance and, more importantly, a choice. That's all. No one is going to make you do anything that you don't want to. It's up to you, Trixie, completely and utterly. If you say no, we will respect your choice. I promise you that."

Trixie studied her closely, uncertain if she could trust a promise from Jocelyn. A good judge of character, she couldn't find an ounce of artifice from the older woman. "Chief Ogilvie gave me a phone number," she shared quietly, tapping the pocket where she had placed the note. "He told me I should let him know my decision after the holiday."

"Yeah. That's what he said to me, too." Jocelyn stared at the obviously confused woman in front of her. "You're at another cross roads here, Trixie, similar to the one you found yourself at this summer. I'm going to tell you something as a friend, not as an agent, because I am your friend, whether you believe it or not." She stared up to Max and warned him lowly, "You probably don't want to hear this."

Trixie lifted her eyebrows at the use of the word 'friend'. She wasn't certain if she still considered Jocelyn one or not. She wasn't certain what to call Jocelyn. "I'm listening."

"I'm supposed to do everything I can to convince you to become an agent," Jocelyn admitted with a wry smile. "I'm going to be honest and tell you that there is nothing I would like better. You would make a terrific one. Even without any official training, I can tell you with absolute certainty that I would feel comfortable facing any situation, no matter how dire or dangerous, with you at my side or my back."

"But?" Trixie inserted when Jocelyn had been quiet for far too long.

"I'm not going to do it." Jocelyn could almost see the displeasure on Ogilvie's face when she told him the content of their talk in a few minutes and hid a grimace. It wouldn't be right. If Trixie were to join them, it would have to be one hundred percent her decision. Max's hand briefly tightened on her shoulder but loosened. He was shocked but in agreement with her, she could tell, as he almost always was. "I'm going to tell you instead to do what feels right for you. Go home. Have fun. Enjoy your family and your friends. If you want to return to us in January, we will be happy and excited for you. If you don't…Trixie, it will be fine. Our agency will continue on and you will go on, the same way as you have always done. There truly is no pressure on you from any of us at the agency."

She couldn't find a flaw in her face or in her words. Trixie was shocked to find that she believed her. "Thanks," she mumbled lowly and gestured off in the direction of their apartment building. "I'm, ah, going to go and get to work. You know, my last exam and, umm, my paper." It was a lame excuse and she knew it. Worse, she knew that they knew it, too. What she really needed was time to herself to process the events of the past few hours.

Jocelyn placed an arm around Max's waist, needing his solid support. "We'll see you in the new year," she said, praying that they would and that Trixie wouldn't decide to stay in New York. "Happy Holidays, Trixie. Take care. Enjoy them."

After Max repeated the same wish, Trixie offered them each a subdued, "Merry Christmas." With a wave of her hand, she walked up the beach to the sidewalk. The street lights and a smattering of stars above guided her. Her feet found the sidewalk without any help from her. Instead, her mind was filled with a hundred and one different thoughts, many conflicting and all jumbled up. Between Jim, the stress of the upcoming holiday, a secret agency called the CDA, and an unexpected chance to become some kind of a special agent, she didn't know which way to turn, let alone what to do. Worse, there wasn't anyone she could talk to about it, other than Jocelyn. Although she felt more comfortable with Jocelyn now than she had after finding out about the agency and their intentions towards her, seeking her out wasn't an option. She was alone. Even the fact that she was starting to consider the possibility of the position was enough of a rude slap in the face. The resounding and immediate _no_had evaporated, leaving behind even more confusion and uncertainty for her to sort through.

Shivering, she stuck her hands in the pockets of her jeans and glimpsed back at the beach. Two shadowy figures were silhouetted against the deep purple of the evening sky. Looking at them together made her wonder about the possibilities. It suddenly seemed intriguing instead of mystifying, real instead of unbelievable, and tantalizing over distasteful. Her holiday home would decide her, she thought with a jolt, just as Jocelyn had suggested. She would know then.


	40. Chapter 40

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Thirty-Nine

While it had only been a few weeks since she had last sat next to her father in the car, traveling on the New York State highway and heading home, it felt like a lifetime had gone past. The truth of her scholarship, of the reason why she had been invited out to California in the first place, ate away at her. It wouldn't go away no matter how hard she tried to avoid thinking about the CDA or its oddly tantalizing offer. She had stumbled through her last exam, had turned in a paper that only had the barest amount of corrections made to it, and had spent the rest of the time alone in her tiny apartment, brooding. As much as she hated to admit it, she had an awful lot to brood about. It took an effort but she shook off the melancholy of her thoughts. After all, she reasoned with a return to her normal spunk, she was on her way home, to spend a full five weeks in wonderful Sleepyside, surrounded by her family and her friends. Worries and contemplations were for later, for when she was alone, she decided with a curt nod and immediately felt as if a weight had been lifted off of her chest. Now was for her and, more importantly, for everyone she loved.

"You're extremely quiet," Peter noted quietly as he expertly changed lanes and passed a slow-moving Mack truck. Grateful that it was Sunday and the traffic going out of the city was not horrible at all, he took his eyes off the road for a moment to glance at his daughter. He liked the smile that curved her lips, as well as the return of the spark to her eyes, and smiled in response.

"Sorry, Daddy. It was a long day. The flight seemed to take forever but I'm so glad to be home. It's going to be wonderful to be home again, with all of you. I've missed everyone so much," she said earnestly, meaning it from the bottom of her heart. Nervous fingers reached up and took off the New York Yankees hat, the one she always wore home. She would present it to Mart when he returned home in a few days. "I wish I hadn't spent most of the day traveling. It seems such a waste to spend so much time in the air. It would be so nice if I could teleport here. No wasted time, right?"

"'Beam me back to Sleepyside, Scotty?' That would be ideal, Trix."Chuckling, his own heart legions lighter than it had been in a long time, he rejoined the right-hand lane, doing a respectable five miles over the speed limit allowed by the state of New York on the highway. He didn't share that Matthew Wheeler had offered them the use of his private plane anytime it was needed, realizing Trixie wouldn't appreciate the offer yet. He had been impressed with the offer but had immediately declined it, knowing that his daughter wouldn't accept it, no matter how well-intentioned it had been offered. Amazingly enough, in the amount of time Trixie had been away, neither Wheeler parent had approached either of the Beldens about the rift that existed between Trixie and Jim. Peter and Helen had responded likewise, understanding that it was an issue that no one wanted to breach. Even the thought of Jim Frayne made his smile lose some of its cheerful brilliance. Wanting to forget about him and catch more of a glimpse into her life in California, he asked, "How did your exams go?"

"Not too bad," she answered with a small shrug and a laugh to match it. "I'll be able to check out my grades in a few days on the university's website, which is a good thing, I guess. I won't have to wait too long to get the results." She covered up a yawn with her hand and leaned her head against the window. The glass felt cool under her cheek. Her breath made a light mist against it. She absently traced small circles threw it, much like she had done when she was a little girl, and watched the uninteresting and monotonous passing scenery offered by the interstate.

"Don't worry, princess. You have the next few weeks to recover from the stress of your semester," Peter assured her with his handsome smile. Incorrectly attributing her tiredness to the rigors of college life, unaware that she had spent a good portion of the past few nights wide awake with a tempting offer floating about in her head, he added, "It's happened to Brian and Mart, too. You remember their first day or two home after a completed semester, don't you?"

The walking dead, they had all laughingly referred to them as. The two generally slept past noon, lounged about the house when they had finally deigned to gift their family with their presence, and had generally not uttered two complete sentences until after their first full day home. Trixie offered a chuckle in response, although she didn't blame her exhaustion on final exam week. She blinked and let her smile widen on her face. "Yeah," she said with a roll of her eyes. "It's hard for me to admit it but I guess I can sympathize with them more now. It was exhausting."

"That's for sure. But don't tell them that. You have to know that Mart, at least, won't ever let you live it down." Peter chuckled again, delighted to have her back home again. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her to stay home and not return to San Diego and California University. Ever. He had it all mapped out. They could easily make it happen, if she had the desire to switch schools. Wisely keeping the thought to himself, he glanced out of the corner of his eye at his little girl and was seriously impressed by how grown-up she was. He still hated the fact that she lived across the country but, he reluctantly admitted, she had survived and thrived just fine, on her own. There was a quietness and a control to her that had never been there before. She was growing up, of that he had no doubt, and it was a great thing that her impulsiveness wasn't as prominent as it used to be. "Tell me your plans, Trixie. I'm certain that Honey and the rest of the Bob-Whites have already started an impressive itinerary for your time home. It's not that often that all seven of you end up in Sleepyside at the same time any longer."

"We're not as settled on plans as we were for Thanksgiving," Trixie answered easily. "Probably because we have a lot more time. Honey has offered to host our first official get-together. It will be on Wednesday evening, the day after everyone gets home from school. Dan's already home, you know," she shared in case her father hadn't seen the dark-haired Bob-White yet.

"He stopped in to see us yesterday and to check your travel statistics. I wouldn't be at all surprised if he's waiting for us when we get back to the farm," Peter laughed, fully expecting the young man to be there to greet the next one home. "I talked to Mr. Lynch this morning today, too. We ran into each other at Wimpy's. Believe it or not, he was on his way to pick up Di. She was able to finish her exams early and got to come home today. She may be home waiting for you, too."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Trixie clapped her hands, excited about the prospect, her blue eyes glistening with enthusiasm. "What a surprise. I wasn't expecting Di to be back in Sleepyside, too. I would love to see both of them. You know, if Mart wasn't swamped with tests and papers, she probably would have stayed in the city until he was finished."

Peter shared an arched look with Trixie. "I almost think that's why Mr. Lynch wanted to pick Di up today and get her home earlier," he shared, straight-faced. All three sets of parents shared the same worries about their children and hoped and prayed that both of the Bob-White couples would make the best decisions possible for them.

Trixie's chuckle tapered off. She hesitated for a moment before bringing up the NYU siblings and their schoolmates. "Mart, Brian, Honey and…Jim are traveling as a pack. They'll get back to Sleepyside sometime on Tuesday evening but I'm certain my brothers have shared their departure time with you."

He caught the slight hesitation on the way she said 'Jim', as well as the telltale flush that spread across her face. His hands tightened on the steering wheel while he recalled a promise to his wife. He was not to badmouth the young man to their daughter, she had ordered him with her hands on her hips and that look to her eyes that promised serious retribution if he did not comply with her wishes. He had attempted to stare her down for a full minute before he had grudgingly promised not to do it. "Yes. I seem to remember your brothers telling me something about that," he remarked evenly, mentally patting himself on the back for not bringing up Jim.

"That means I have a few days at home, practically on my own. Maybe Moms will let me help bake our Christmas cookies," she said with a tiny laugh, successfully changing the subject. It was a holiday tradition in the Belden household; although Trixie's creations never made it into the cute little holiday tins that Helen offered to their friends and neighbors. A little too grotesque, they more often than not found their home in the cracked ceramic cookie jar that stood guard on the kitchen counter. None of the Beldens cared if the arms of the gingerbread men were disfigured or if the oddly shaped cookies were a little too heavy on the sprinkles.

"She's already looking forward to it. Expect to do it tomorrow. And the next day. And, most likely, the day after that, too." Peter's chuckle intermingled with Trixie's, filling the car with its light-hearted sound. "Christmas is only nine days away. It's going to come up fast. Helen has a lot of cookies that need baking, too."

"It always comes up fast." Trixie shook her head, grateful that the Bob-Whites had made a pact to celebrate with a party and to forego present buying since all of them were in college. A nice, easy stress-free party was how Honey and Di had put it to her on their last webcam chat. Nice, easy or stress-free were not words she would use to describe any upcoming Bob-White get-together, especially the first one looming ahead of her in a few short days. She squirmed in her seat.

After finding out that the stations were all playing a wide assortment of holiday music, from chirpy instrumental to the all-too-cheerful to the depressing and the maudlin, he flicked off the radio with a sigh and declared, "I've already had enough of the holiday music to last me the rest of the year. Tell me about San Diego this time of the year. Did you get to appreciate the warmth of the weather? Are you already freezing here?"

She looked down at her tanned hands. If she had stayed in New York, she would have lost her summer glow but, with the beautiful sun sparkling all year round in southern California, she hadn't. "It's amazing to not need a heavy winter coat. I'm glad that Moms made me bring my coat back with me over Thanksgiving. I was surprised by how cold it was here during my last trip home." She tapped her warm winter fleece jacket, a dark shade of red. "I don't think I would have survived the walk to the car without it. Brr," she shivered in exaggeration.

Peter nodded his head. "Is California University treating you well?"

"It is," Trixie answered because it was what he needed to hear while she sent up an inward prayer at the slight bend of the truth. Continuing in the vein of placating her father, she added, walking that thinly veiled line between the truth and a lie, "I've met a few people over the semester. We've hung out a bit. The school work and my practicum at the agency kept me busy, too." Her smile stayed on her face. It had all happened exactly as she had said but she couldn't tell him everything. She didn't have the clearance to, she realized with an unexpressed groan of dismay. She couldn't tell anyone about her offer; not even Honey. It grated at her, made her wish she was able to talk to someone about it. But the only people she could were back in San Diego and she honestly didn't have any desire to discuss the proposal with them. Needing to change yet another subject, she inquired, "Have I missed anything new here?"

"We caught you up on most of the happenings during Thanksgiving," Peter replied, his lips starting to twitch at one event she wasn't aware of yet. "Other than the fact that Bobby, Larry and Terry had to stay after school for three days for hiding their math teacher's teacher edition, complete with answers, there hasn't been that much excitement happening here."

"They did what?" Astonished, Trixie gaped at her father while she wished she had thought of doing that same prank when she was in school.

"You heard me. They thought it would be hilarious. The three worked together as a team. Larry distracted the teacher, Terry served as watch-out, and Bobby 'borrowed' the book from the desk and hid it in an unused locker in the boys' locker room. It was quite a day," he remembered, doing his best not to chuckle. "The boys were giving after school detention for three days as a result."

Her giggles filled the car; increased in volume when her father joined her. "Anything else?" Trixie asked after wiping away the moisture from her eyes.

"Mr. Lytell decided to go into early retirement," Peter shared, an unholy gleam in his dark eyes, and all amusement gone. "He sold his store to Mr. Lynch, of all people. It's closed down for renovations but will open again in the spring. Mr. Lynch is having it completely redone. He wants to preserve the quality of the little country store."

"Oh!" Trixie gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. She almost felt bad for Mr. Lytell, correctly guessing that his high-handed treatment of her during that fateful summer day had successfully led to the lack of sales in his store, but decided against it. "Good for Mr. Lynch. Glen Road can certainly use a nice store out in the country."

"I don't think Mr. Lytell had a lot of customers for the past few months. Enough about him," Peter declared after a moment. There was another piece of interesting information he had unearthed. "I recently found out something very interesting when Matthew Wheeler came into the bank. He stopped by my office and visited for awhile. He told me some interesting news that you may not know. Have you heard about Jim yet?" Unaware of the fact that her friends were intentionally keeping her in the dark, Peter posed the question cautiously, gauging her reaction out of the corner of his eye. Luckily, she didn't do anything dramatic. Instead, she sat ultra-still, her hands fisted together in apparent calm in her lap.

"No." Trixie shook her head, making her longer curls dance, and stared at her father's profile, a cauldron of apprehension and curiosity bubbling behind her placid surface. "I haven't heard anything about Jim. No one brings him up to me and, truthfully, I don't talk about him to anyone else. What do you mean? What happened to Jim?"

"Nothing has happened to him," Peter hurriedly assured her, not wanting to get her upset. "Matt is really proud of him and Honey, too. He couldn't stop talking about either one of them." And he had to be more obtuse than Peter had ever given him credit for. Matt had never apparently caught on to the fact that Peter hadn't wanted to hear a single thing about Jim. He had responded with wholehearted participation when they were discussing Honey but, as soon as the conversation turned to the redhead, Peter's responses had become definitely clipped and short. If Matt had noticed, he hadn't had let on.

"Oh," Trixie murmured inarticulately, tightening her fists. She told herself to calm down, that she was going to have to get used to hearing his name frequently. It wouldn't be too long before she was going to see him again.

"He's excited that Honey has chosen to become an occupational therapist and that Jim decided to become a lawyer." Peter continued, remembering the ring of pride that had reverberated through Matt's voice when he had shared the information with him. "He's looking forward to the day when Jim is going to be able to come to work at his company."

A lawyer? Work with his father? Trixie's head snapped back while her mouth fell open in pure shock. It made no sense to her. Stunned, her overly expressive face showed the vivid amount of confusion swirling within. Leaning forward, eyes intent, she reached for her father's forearm and stated insistently, "Wait, Dad. Wait. You have to repeat that. What did you just say?"

Peter nodded his head curtly as it became clear that Trixie hadn't known about Jim. When he had mentioned it to Brian and Mart during a phone call before their exams had started up a week ago, neither had been shocked. He hadn't thought to ask either of his sons if Trixie was aware of the change. He had merely assumed that she knew. Treading a little more carefully, mentally castigating himself for bringing it up, he explained haltingly, "He changed his major at the start of the semester, Trixie. He dropped pre-student teaching, as well as the rest of his ed courses, and picked up the ones he needed. Lucky for him, he didn't have to take on too many extra courses. He'll still be able to graduate in the spring; this time, with a degree in business instead of education. According to Matt, he's hoping to be accepted at Harvard Law School, where he'll study corporate law and then he'll go to work for his father." He didn't mention that Brian and Mart were aware of it, too.

"But…" Unnerved and residing in that unwelcome and uncomfortable place somewhere between shock and astonishment, Trixie nervously played with her seatbelt while her father's words ran through her mind. Jim? A corporate lawyer? Comprehending it was impossible; understanding it wasn't anywhere near the realm of possibility. She simply couldn't see him in that position. It went beyond her capabilities and contrasted drastically with everything she knew and believed about Jim. "What about his school?" came out through thin, white lips.

"Apparently he changed his mind about the school. Matt didn't go into particulars and, to tell you the truth, I didn't ask him any questions. I merely listened to him talk about Jim." Peter chose not to add that he had visualized in his mind many varied and creative ways to make his good friend stop spouting off information about his son. Truth to tell, he hadn't been all that concerned about Jim or the changes he was making to his career plans. "Jim seems set on this new course, though. According to Matt, he's doing exceptionally well at school. He's also going to be devoting a good bit of his vacation time to studying for the upcoming LSATs, a requirement for law school."

She worked hard to school her features, to not let her father see how it felt like each word he told her was like a well-placed dart to her heart. Troubled, she bit her bottom lip and mumbled, "I see." Her voice sounded controlled while her thoughts swirled and whirled like a raging, tumbling tornado. This was what her radar had picked up on the last time she was home, she realized with a blinding flash of insight. She had known something was off with Jim from the way her friends had tiptoed around any mention of him. While she wanted to be furious at her friends for keeping the news from her, she couldn't be. They had either been trying to protect her because they knew it would hurt her or they had been waiting for Jim to tell her or a combination of both. Whatever the reason, it didn't make her feel any better.

"Let's move on to Honey," Peter insisted swiftly. He didn't want to talk about the other one anymore. "Matt also mentioned that Honey is sold on occupational therapy as her chosen course of study. She'll be terrific at it. He said that she became interested in it during her summer with Dr. Ferris' office." He didn't mention that Matt had also shared with him his relief that Honey was no longer interested in becoming a private detective, another thought that he believed should have been better left in Matt's damned redhead since his own daughter was miles upon miles away, starting down the path to where she would become just that.

"She'll be a wonderful OT. There's not a doubt in my mind." Unaware that she had paled and that her smile had completely disappeared, Trixie clasped her hands together tightly and returned to staring out at the passing scenery. It was gray and oddly depressing. Her early good cheer faded away while she tried to assimilate the Jim Frayne she knew with the one who now had no desire to build his long-dreamed of school. How could he have changed his mind? Frowning, she watched the rest of the state of New York go by, only offering bits of conversation when it seemed like her father expected it.

In seemingly no time at all they were off the highway and onto Glen Road. Saving thoughts of Jim until she was alone, Trixie leaned forward, almost as if she could urge the car to move faster, and watched the familiar places roll by. Mr. Lytell's store. The driveway to the Manor House. Pathways that led into the preserve. They were wonderful sights to see but not nearly as wonderful as when they pulled into her driveway and she saw Crabapple Farm. The white farmhouse stood out against the bleak white and gray of the sky, with a thin layer of snow at its feet. Smoke trailed out in small puffs from its chimney. When a quick glance at the vehicles parked in the driveway, her smile nearly split her face. Dan's truck and Mrs. Lynch's car. That meant she had more people home to greet her than she had expected. Then she looked back at the house, saw a curtain fall back from the large picture window. An answering smile blossomed across her face. Without a doubt, she knew her mother was waiting for her.

As soon as her father pulled in and turned off the engine, she threw open her door and bounded across the yard, her hair flying behind her and her feet crunching through the inch or so of snow on the ground while Reddy danced in anticipation on the front porch. She had time to brace herself before he tried to take her down. Rubbing a hand over his head, she hurried forward. The front door opened before she even made it up the front steps. Her mother was framed in the doorway, a portrait of happiness and light, with a sparkle glinting in her beautiful blue eyes.

"Moms!" Trixie shouted as she practically sprinted into her mother's arms. She gave her mother the warmest of hugs, pretended not to notice the tears gleaming on Helen's cheeks, and then stepped back, blinking back a few of her own. A bittersweet realization swept over her. Just as she had suspected on that early summer morning when she had left, she felt more like a visitor, even in her own home. Growing up meant a little bit of growing away or, in her case, of breaking away. It tugged at her heart. "Moms," she mumbled, her voice choked with unshed emotion.

"She didn't greet me quite that enthusiastically," Peter joked from behind. He dropped a suitcase on the porch floor and chuckled, delighted to have all of his girls home again, before he turned to head back down the steps to retrieve the carry-on bag. "I see we have visitors."

"Oh! Yes, we do." Helen absently brushed back a curl and motioned her daughter inside. "Di stopped by. She's in the kitchen, helping me with the beef stew. She's taking care of the salad right now. Dan has the tougher chore. He is keeping Bobby occupied. They are playing one of his video games in the den."

"It will be great to see them, too." Trixie swallowed back a hysterical need to giggle. It felt so good to be home again. "Do you need any more help with dinner?"

"No." Helen threaded her arm through Trixie's and tugged her into the cheerful living room. A Christmas tree sat in the corner of with only strings of multi-colored lights decorating it. Large boxes of holiday ornaments sat next to it, practically begging to be opened. The boxes would stay closed until all of the Beldens were home. It was a strong tradition of Helen's. She insisted on having everyone take part in decorating the tree. "You spent the entire day traveling. No work for you, Trix! Go see Dan and Bobby in the den. I'll send Di in, too." She gave Trixie a nudge in the right direction and hurried down the hall, an excited spring to her step.

Trixie giggled after her mother. Relieved that she wasn't expected to do any work, she entered the den and grinned at the sight before her. Dan and Bobby, sprawled out on the floor, their heads close together as they focused intently on the screen in front of them, and played a ferocious game of Lego Star Wars.

"Take that, Vader," Dan gloated as his Luke Skywalker completed an impressive series of swipes with his light saber on the screen, beating the bad guy with an impressive style that had Bobby's blue eyes widening in admiration.

"Wow," he whispered in awe, running a hand over his shortly cropped blonde hair, and a look of unhidden hero-worship to his eyes. "That was awesome! You're going to have to teach me how to do those moves." He laid down his controller and watched his chosen character, Obi-Wan Kenobi, come to a complete standstill. He glanced down at the snack bowl by his side. "I'm sorry I wasn't more help in defeating Darth. I was distracted by the potato chips." A few crumbs clung to his chin. He absently swiped them away.

"Hey, don't blame me if you let your belly get in the way of your playing," Dan joked playfully, wagging a finger in front of Bobby's face, and unaware of their amused audience in the doorway. "You can certainly tell that you're related to Mart Belden."

"Not only does he have his haircut, he also has his appetite! Poor Bobby. There's simply no hope for him," Trixie called out, announcing her presence, and shaking her head in sham sadness. A delighted smile bloomed across her face. She braced herself for the reaction, knowing that both of the inhabitants in the room were going to be ecstatic that she was home.

Bobby and Dan turned as one, incredulous looks on their faces. While they had been expecting her at any moment for the past hour, the anticipation was nothing compared to the reality. They scrambled to their feet, game completely and totally forgotten, and dropped their controllers to the floor. "Trixie!" they called out together and rushed towards her. Since he had been lying closest to the door, Bobby reached her first and, without thinking, threw his arms around her and hugged her strongly. The second he remembered hugging a family member wasn't a trendy thing for a pre-teen to do, he dropped back and awkwardly stuck his hands in his back pockets. "Uh, hey, Trix," he greeted her, the edges of his lips curling up while he attempted to play it cool. "It's, ah, good to see you."

Dan rolled his eyes at Bobby and stepped in front of him to give her a friendly embrace. Repeating Bobby's words with much more warmth, he declared, stepping back so he could assess how she was doing for himself, "It is good to see you, Trix. We've been waiting for you to get back. Did you have a good flight?"

"Not bad. The ride home wasn't bad, either. It's just been a long day," she answered with a sunny smile. Then she heard the rap-a-tap sounds of heels tapping at a quick clip down the hardwood floors of the hallway. Turning to the doorway, she giggled again when a beaming Diana Lynch appeared. "Hey, Di!"

"Hey, yourself!" Di laughed happily. Throwing proper decorum to the wind, she practically sprinted the last few feet to Trixie and pushed Dan away, wanting Trixie all to herself. After giving her a warm hug, she caught one of Trixie's longer curls in her hand. "I don't know if I remembered to tell you this at Thanksgiving but I just love your hair. The length is really good for you. It really softens your features. And I'm really envious about your tan." She looked down at her own hands and frowned. Unless she was willing to spend a lot of time at the tanning bed or have it sprayed on her, she didn't have a chance in hell of acquiring or keeping her tan of summer in the harsh New York winter.

Bobby and Dan shared a pained look and sighed as one. About to comment on his sister's new look, and not in a very complimentary way, Bobby was halted by the sound of his mother calling him into the kitchen to set the table. He grimaced, gave his sister a sullen look, and grumbled, "I don't know why I have to be the one to do it. You could, you know." When she only smirked in response and didn't offer to take over the chore, he stomped out of the den and headed towards the kitchen.

"It's nice not to have to do all the chores anymore," she remarked under her breath.

"All the chores?" Dan wondered, his eyes lighting up with shared amusement with Di. "You'll have to call me crazy but, if my memory serves me right, it seems to me that you made getting out of your chores a number one priority. Not only did you make it a number one priority but you were extremely good at accomplishing it."

"'Moms, I have to meet Honey to talk about this case we're working on. Do you think I could skip out on my chores, just this once?'" Di questioned in a high pitched voice that didn't sound anything like Trixie's before collapsing into a fit of giggles. It was only one of the many excuses Trixie had handed her mother over the years for getting out of her chores that she had paraphrased but they had all served her friend well. "You have to admit it, Trix. You were never that good at doing your chores."

"True," Trixie admitted with a small, uninsulted chuckle. "But that doesn't take away any enjoyment at watching my little brother take care of the chores that I used to have to do." She craned her head towards the hallway, heard the sound of kitchen drawers opening and closing, and could imagine Bobby muttering to himself as he completed the chore. It was music to her older sister ears.

Di left her arm on Trixie's shoulder. "I am so glad that my parents didn't mind if I came over to see you this evening!" Di declared, her lovely violet eyes shining with joy. "It was such a treat to get out of the city earlier than I expected. I'm so happy to be home. It's even better because I get to spend the evening with you and Dan."

"I feel the same way," Trixie breathed out, relieved and excited. "I didn't expect to see anyone but my parents and Bobby tonight. It's perfectly perfect to have both of you here, too."

"The NYU group will be coming home late on Tuesday," Di shared with a small blush tingeing her cheeks. Her words began to speed up, telling both Trixie and Dan that she was nervous. "I got a call from Mart during a study break. They were able to finalize their plans. They'll be coming in late which means we will be able to have our first Bob-White get-together on Wednesday!"

"There's already one planned?" Dan questioned, incredulous, unaware of the plans. When both Trixie and Di nodded at him, he swallowed a sigh and wondered why he was one of the last to know.

"You know how we are," Di giggled unrepentantly. "Honey and I came up with the idea last week sometime. We're going to spend our first full evening together at her house. It's time for one of our infamous Bob-White movie nights. The holiday one, you know. We have them periodically, as you well know. More importantly, we always do one with a holiday theme right around this time of the year. It'll be the perfect way to de-stress after exams."

"Right. I had forgotten. The holiday movies. Oh, the horror." Dan gave an exaggerated shudder, picturing in his minds the movies Honey and Di usually offered up for their viewing pleasure. There was nothing quite like their overly sentimental choices. Usually the men were able to talk them out of it but, with both Brian and Mart dating one of them, he didn't think the men would have a chance in hell. About to invite Trixie to join him in dissing the sappy choices, he caught the apprehensive flash to her eyes. He understood immediately. "It'll be fine, Trix," he murmured quietly.

"You don't have to make fun of our movies choices, Dan. They're not that bad. And you don't have to assure Trixie that the movies will be fine," Di complained with a comical roll of her eyes. Then she caught where he was looking, saw the look of dismay reflected briefly on Trixie's face, and gasped. She switched gears quickly and proclaimed, "Oh, yes! Forget what I was saying. Everything will be fine. We'll all be there. There's no need to get nervous or anything."

Trixie's smile wasn't quite as warm or wide as it had been when she had first came into the room but she did her best to assure the two that she would be fine. "It's going to happen this vacation. I know it. I'm already prepared for it." She didn't have to elaborate on what she was prepared for. They both knew it, as did the rest of the Bob-Whites.

"All right." Di nodded, pretending to agree with Trixie. "I can see that you are. Even so, it won't be so bad, for either you or Jim. You won't have to be alone at all. You've got five people standing in-between you at all times. There'll always be a good buffer of us for you." Her unique violet eyes held a different gleam to them that had Dan looking at her oddly.

Trixie didn't look beyond Di's words or study the expression on her face. "Thanks, Di," she muttered, staring down at her hands. She hated the fact that the first meeting between the two of them was coming up and that there was nothing else she could do for it. Crying off of the movie night wasn't an option. It would only postpone the inevitable and make her seem scared or guilty about facing Jim. She wasn't about to take that way out. She had to suck it up and go, the same as Jim.

Certain that something was in the works, Dan promised himself to corner Di at the first opportunity. As it was, all he could do right now was to add his proclamation to hers. "Yeah, Trix. You've got a whole bevy standing between you and Jim. You can both lean on us. It'll turn out fine. It may be a little awkward for the two of you at first but it won't be that terrible or anything like that. I mean, it's not going to be fun for you, Jim or any of us. You'll get through it. It won't be too uncomfortable." He let out a loud groan when Di slapped him in the shoulder for his answers. "Hey! I'm not Mart, you know. What was that for?" he demanded, frowning at her.

"Stupid, stupid man," Di retorted indignantly, frowning at Dan for being asinine enough to admit to Trixie that it was going to be awkward, uncomfortable, and even terrible. "What on earth were you thinking, Daniel Mangan? Telling Trixie it's going to be awkward? She doesn't need you to plant ideas in her head, you idiot."

Dan gave the male equivalent of a snort. "Come on, Di. It's not like Trixie doesn't know it's going to be awkward. She's a pretty smart lady. She knows what to expect."

"That may be but you don't have to be insensitive enough to point it out," Di replied in a huff, her arms crossed over her chest, and forgetting that the person they were discussing was standing right next to her. "Trixie feels bad enough about it as it is. There's no need for you to point it out to her."

Torn between a desire to laugh and just as strong of a desire to wither away, Trixie picked that moment to rejoin the conversation, finally overcoming her stupefaction at their choice of conversation. "Dan. Di," she interrupted quietly, waving her hand in the air to let them know she was in the room and listening in. "Hello? I'm still here, guys. I haven't left."

They both turned to look at her and flushed at the same time. "Sorry," Dan mumbled under his breath.

Di reached out and gave her another quick hug, sighing dramatically. "We're both sorry, Trix. That was rather insensitive of us. We didn't mean anything by it, though. Really, we didn't."

"I know." Trixie shook her head, sending her curls into a lackluster dance. Taking a deep breath, taking the time to look each of them in the air, she said told them, "You can both make it up to me right now and tell me the whole truth. While we were driving back from the airport, my father told me something very interesting and unexpected about Jim." Her pause was intentional. She carefully observed their reactions.

"Oh…dear." Di's was easy to read. Her mouth curled into an O of astonishment, understanding perfectly what Peter Belden had told Trixie, and glanced remorsefully down at the floor. "I see."

Dan was harder to read. He didn't say anything. His cheeks flushed a muted shade of red while he recalled their phone conversation of a few nights ago. He couldn't meet her eyes and busied himself by walking over to the television set. After he turned off the TV, he reached down and started wrapping up the controllers. Then he picked up the snack bowl that Bobby had left in the room, all the while never making eye-contact with Trixie or Di.

Trixie followed his every movement, correctly guessing that he was trying to avoid the upcoming interrogation. Having none of that, she muttered, "I'm certain you both see what I'm talking about." While she wanted to be angry with both of them, as well as at her brothers and Honey, she didn't have it in her. But she wasn't going to let them off the hook, not without finding out more. She waited until he came back over. Then she blasted them with the questions they had been dreading. "Why didn't any of you tell me? Di, we talk every Tuesday. Dan, you had the perfect opportunity the other night when we were chatting on the phone. Why didn't you?"

Dan heard the sound of silverware clinking loudly against the wood of the table, a sure sign that Bobby wasn't ecstatic about his job as table-setter, and wanted everyone to know it and understand that it was a huge sacrifice for him to undertake. "We're going to be eating soon, Trix," he mumbled, hoping to dissuade her, and felt his flush deepen.

"Dan's right!" Di chirped in, her voice unnaturally bright and cheerful. She started towards the door, hoping the action would bring Trixie with her and make her forget about her questions. "Your mother is going to be calling us in soon. We should be going in."

Hands on her hip, she lifted her eyebrows and shook her head. "I don't think so. Now. Answer my question."

"Geez, Trix," Dan replied sarcastically. He held his hands out in supplication. "I can't imagine why we didn't want to tell you. What do you think, Di? Could it be because we didn't want to hurt your feelings? Or maybe because all of us knew that you would blame yourself for it?"

Di looked chagrinned and extremely uncomfortable. Wringing her hands together, she wished that Honey was there to help answer Trixie's questions. Honey had been born with an innate grace and tact that she envied. Both had known Trixie wouldn't be ecstatic with Jim's change of plans or the fact that the Bob-Whites had chosen not to tell her ahead of time. Maybe it hadn't been the best choice, she thought with a fatalistic shrug, but realized they couldn't go back in time to change it. Instead, they would have to deal with the now.

Trixie closed her eyes briefly, hearing the answer in Dan's sarcastically voiced questions. When she opened them, she had her emotions under control. After all, she had had a good, long car ride to puzzle it out and had come up with the only and obvious answer. "You didn't want to tell me because you knew it would hurt me. I understand that. I can even respect it. You wanted to keep me from hurting." She leaned in closer to the two and asked, her voice wavering despite her best attempts to make it strong, "Why did he change his mind? My dad didn't offer me that information and, well, I didn't feel comfortable trying to dig it out of him."

Probably because Peter Belden hadn't realized how much it would hurt her. He couldn't see much beyond his own anger at the other co-president of their club. Dan's low sigh rang throughout the room. He ran a hand through his dark hair and desperately wished that her mother would yell out to them that dinner was ready. When she didn't, he was left with no other option but to answer. Again. This time he left the sarcasm behind. "He's only shared with me that he didn't have a great experience this year at that summer camp of his. In fact, he said that he couldn't wait for it to end. Then, well…" He left the rest unsaid, with only a helpless shrug of his broad shoulders, and threw a helpless look at Di, who had been rendered speechless for the moment. "Well, you know, Trixie. You don't need any of us to say it."

"Yeah. You're right. That's what I thought." Guilt bubbled within, made her squint and her stomach clench. About to say more, her mother's finally voice called out for them, inviting them to dinner.

Dan dropped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed her reassuringly. "Don't go there, Trix," he advised her quietly, knowing exactly what she was thinking and trying desperately to come up with a way to stop her from doing just that. "Jim's a grown man. He makes his own decisions…as do you."

Di finally found her voice. She came around the other side of Trixie and laid a gentle arm on her waist. "Dan's right. We all make our own choices. It's not for any one of us to question if they are the best ones, the right ones or even why one of us made them. The important thing is is that we are right there, helping and supporting each other, just like we always promised we would do when we became Bob-Whites."

She heard the support behind the words, both for her and for Jim, and gratefully let the subject drop. There wasn't any use in letting her emotions control her. It would only exhaust her. And Jim…he was the only one who could tell her exactly why he had changed his mind about his school. She sniffed the air as the smells from the dinner wafted back towards them. "Come on, guys. Let's go eat. Moms made homemade beef stew. With the cold temperatures outside, we can certainly use it."

"Wimp," Dan accused her lightly and dropped his arm from around her shoulder. He gestured for her to lead them out of the room. When Trixie wrinkled her nose at him and turned her back on them, he unobtrusively grabbed onto Di's hand and held her in place. "It's not that cold out."

"Right," she said with a quick look out the window. Bleak, gray and with the trees dancing with the advent of a fresh, cutting wind. It was positively frigid. "I don't know what planet you're hanging out on. It's absolutely freezing, Dan."

"Only to your weak California body. You're going soft on us," he said with a forced laugh and tugged Di closer to him when she tried to follow Trixie to the door. About to ask a huffy question, she stared up at him only to be silenced by a negative shake of his head. He held his breath until he couldn't hear the sound of Trixie's sneakers on the hardwood floors any longer.

"What is it, Dan?" Knowing it was useless to try to break away from him, Di waited with impatiently. She brushed back a strand of her dark hair and attempted to stare him down.

"None of that lady of the manor crap," Dan ordered her softly. He pointed in the direction Trixie had gone and shared his suspicions, "When you were talking with Trixie earlier, I had a vision of you and Honey, gathered together and cackling like a bunch of witches about to cast a spell. Don't even waste a second on trying to deny it. What are you two up to?" he questioned with a lifted eyebrow.

She gave up, knowing it was useless to ignore or sidestep his question. "Nothing…much," she tacked on, with a guilty look, and shuffled her feet. "We're only hoping to try and get Trixie and Jim together during our holiday movie night. By apparent accident, of course. We haven't figured out the logistics of it yet but we're going to jump on the chance once it arrives. It will happen. We'll see to it. Both Honey and I firmly believe that if the two would just talk they would be much happier. We don't know if they would solve all of their problems but at least they would be able to co-exist in some peace. It's simple, really."

"I'd tread very carefully if I were you," Dan advised after he thoughtfully considered the information. He paused a moment and then added, "Both Trixie and Jim have made monumental decisions about their lives. Trixie moved out of the state, without informing Jim about it. Jim is altering his life plans; again, without including Trixie in it. I wouldn't put too much hope on the fact that one less-than-chance meeting is going to solve all of their problems or get them back together," he warned her.

Di didn't want to admit the potential truth behind his words. She shook her head, refusing to be cynical, and declared optimistically, "But there is a chance that it could. Maybe. We're going to try to throw them together, Dan…somehow. Like I said, we don't know exactly how yet. Both Honey and I don't feel all that comfortable asking Mart or Brian for help with it since…well, since they are her brothers. We…ah…we may need your help, though."

He wanted to refuse but knew better. He wouldn't be able to stick to it. When any of the females within their midst batted their beautiful eyes his way, he was lost, utterly and completely. It came from knowing the three of them were the best sisters he could ever have hoped for. Worse, he couldn't ever disappoint any of them. Double worse, all three knew it. "You'll regret it," he warned her again before they started down the hallway to the kitchen and the delicious dinner. His stomach rumbled lowly.

"We'll see." Di tossed a laugh his way and then slipped into the room. She took Mart's unoccupied seat at the nearly full Belden table and smiled serenely at the other occupants in the room.

Trixie threw a curious look at the two, wondered why it had taken them so long to arrive in the kitchen but then forgot about it in the raucous meal that was an undeniable trademark of the Belden household. Even with Mart and Brian absent, it didn't seem like there was a quiet moment. The conversation never lagged. Before they knew it, the dinner was over, dessert in the form of homemade coffee cake had been served, and it was time to clean up. Despite the fact that she wasn't supposed to do any chores, Trixie, Dan and Di took care of the clean-up, pushing a protesting Helen out of the room and watching in glee as Bobby scampered as far and as fast out of the kitchen as he could before he got roped in to help.

After saying good-bye to Dan and Di, Trixie found herself up in her bedroom, her suitcase and bag sitting on one of the twin beds. She stood in the center of the room, taking it in, and was surprised to realize how small her room really was. She had never taken note of it before, wondered if maybe it was the fact that she was no longer living in it on a day-to-day basis that made it seem so small.

Left with nothing better to do, she zipped open her suitcase and pulled out clothes. Amazingly enough, she had actually taken the time to fold the clothes. They only had a few wrinkles to them. Taking out a long-sleeved gray shirt, she shook it out and walked over to the closet and opened the door. Her hands reached for a free hanger, accidentally brushed against a plastic covering over a dress. The shirt fell to the ground. Frowning, she stared warily at the dress as if she had never seen one before, almost as if she expected it to break out of its plastic covering and attack her. Trixie shook her head at the foolishness but still had to breathe deeply before laying her hands on it and bringing it out of the closet. The bedroom light brought out the deep, cobalt blue. It was the dress she was supposed to have worn on the night of their two year anniversary, six months earlier. Instead of a symbol of a beautiful and momentous time in her life, it now stood for all of her failed hopes and dreams. It was the equivalent of holding her bruised and battered heart in her hands.

Having no clue how long she stared at the damn article of clothing, Trixie finally snapped out of it and hastily hung it back in the her closet with an almost insane amount of speed. She put it all the way at the back where she would have to push past two god-awful ugly dresses in unflattering paisley prints that her Aunt Alicia had helpfully supplied her with during her high school years. Only when she couldn't see the blue of it anymore did she resume breathing naturally. Turning back to her suitcase, she began to empty it with a vengeance. Subconsciously, as she pulled out each piece of clothing, she noted that the color blue was seriously lacking in her wardrobe. The only blue she wore any more was of the denim kind. Other than that, she steered as far and as fast away from that color as she could. When all of her clothes were either hanging in the closet or had been thrown into her dresser drawers, Trixie walked over to her bedroom window and stared out into the dark night, thoughts upon unsettling thoughts assaulting her. If she was having trouble with a color, for crying out loud, how on earth was it going to be when she finally saw Jim again? She couldn't find an answer.


	41. Chapter 41

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Forty

The cold wind felt bitter against his cheeks. Jim huddled against it and gave Jupiter his head, allowing the big black stallion to find his own way home. Bare branches swayed with the wind, making a wispy, eerie sound. He didn't hear it. The weak December sunlight reflected off the thin layer of snow on the ground. Again, he didn't notice it. His thoughts were on one thing and one thing only: Trixie. He couldn't put it off any longer like he had with his Habitat for Humanity project over Thanksgiving break. In just a few short hours he was going to see her again.

The early Bob-White get-together just had to be at his house, of all places, he thought sarcastically. He couldn't understand why Honey had insisted on Manor House as the place for their group's traditional holiday movie night. It perplexed him. When he had asked Honey why they were hosting the event, she had responded by saying that the clubhouse didn't have a television set, Mr. Maypenny's cabin was too small, and that Di's house was too crowded. She had batted her eyes at him and had innocently wondered aloud if he would prefer having it at Crabapple Farm instead. After efficiently and neatly cornering him, he had been left with no other option but to say no. He hadn't set foot on Belden property since last summer and had no intentions of going down to the house in the hollow anytime soon, as Honey had to know. That, unfortunately for him, left Manor House as their one and only option. At least he would have five good friends standing as a buffer between them. Those five friends were support for both of them, exactly as he, and Trixie, he admitted regrettably, wanted them to be. Their presence would help ease some of the awkwardness. He wasn't overly optimistic about the get-together and didn't waste any energy on predicting how it was going to turn out. As long as Honey or one of their friends didn't try to maneuver the two of them together, he figured it wouldn't be that horrible.

As Jupiter traveled along one of the paths, Jim glanced off to the side. Small puffs of smoke rose above, coming in the direction of Crabapple Farm. _She_ was there, at her house, with Honey and Di. They had been recruited into helping Mrs. Belden bake the last set of her holiday cookies. Almost immediately, memories flooded back at him. He couldn't stop them. He couldn't block them. Worse, he quietly admitted that they were going to become more potent and powerful with both of them home. Last year, he had been invited to help with the annual baking and had stood sentinel at the large kitchen table, keeping Mart away from the freshly-baked cookies and helping Trixie decorate them. It had been hectic, loud, animated and fun, just like any function that the Beldens hosted. A grim smile tipped his lips, both pained and bittersweet, while he pictured what would happen if he were to ride down and insert himself into the domestic happenings. It wouldn't be pleasant, for any of them. How the hell he was going to make it through the next five weeks was beyond him. He would have to muddle through it…somehow. There wasn't much of a choice.

Finally taking back the reins, he turned Jupiter and his back on Crabapple Farm, resolutely traveling the rest of the way to his house without a single backwards glance. He swallowed a sigh of relief when the stables came into sight. The physical labor of taking off the equipment, wiping Jupiter down, and then of cleaning the tack soothed his rather ragged nerves better than the ride itself, which surprised him immensely. By the time the equipment was hanging back in its rightful spot and Jupiter was munching on fresh hay, he felt more like himself. As he stepped back out into the weather, he blew on his hands to warm them up. He couldn't imagine why, he thought dryly, but he had forgotten to wear gloves on the long ride. His hands were puckered and red, clearly showing evidence of their harsh treatment out in the elements. Stuffing them into the warmth of his thick coat, he trudged up to the house. His feet thumped up the steps and across the porch boards before he made it through the front door. The blast of warm air was balm to the coldness within him.

"Jim!" his father boomed out cheerfully from the doorway to the formal living room. He didn't miss the windburn staining his son's cheeks and shivered himself as a wisp of chilly air blew in with his son. He nodded in the direction of the kitchen, finding it much easier to set his plan in motion than he had expected. "You look cold, Jim. Let's go get some coffee. You were out longer than you should have been. You look like you desperately need something to warm you up."

"It didn't seem that cold when I first started out. It got worse as the ride went on." Jim slipped out off his coat and carefully hung it up on the stand near the door. He undid the laces of his weatherproof boots and left them by the door, unwilling to make a mess on the clean floors or rugs of the Manor House. Then, in feet adorned in thick, dry socks, he came forward and smiled for his father. "You're right, Dad. Coffee sounds perfect." He had spent longer out there than he had expected. Between enjoying the freedom of the ride with Jupiter, as well as his thoughts turning towards the curly-haired woman nestled in the hollow below him, he had lost track of time. He didn't share them with his father but he didn't need to. He correctly guessed that Matthew Wheeler had a pretty good idea about the reason behind his lengthy ride. His father wasn't a stupid man.

"I happen to know that Cook also baked a fresh batch of cookies this morning. Chocolate chip. My favorite." Matt smacked his lips in appreciation and winked at Jim. Knowing Jim would follow, he led the way down the hall and towards the kitchen. "What could be better than coffee and cookies? I imagine Honey is having something similar down at Crabapple Farm, too."

There was the briefest of pauses before Jim responded, "Yeah. Probably hot cider or tea. But not chocolate chip cookies. She said that they were making sugar cookies today." He kept his face impassive, hoped his father couldn't see where, or, more accurately, who his mind went to. He had to believe that at some point in his life that his thoughts wouldn't keep coming back to her.

Matt arched an eyebrow. His son couldn't fool him, no matter how hard he tried. He wished that Jim would open up to someone about Trixie but, as far as he could tell, he hadn't. Neither had Trixie. Honey was willing to share all the information she knew, which, admittedly, wasn't all that much. She hadn't been able to help Matt decide the best way to help the couple out. The two deserved to be together. They should be together. He couldn't understand why they were living on opposite ends of the country. Staring into Jim's face, reading something there that told him now wasn't the time to delve into the relationship, he shared in a loud stage whisper, "Don't tell our Cook this but I firmly believe that Helen Belden bakes the best cookies in Westchester County. I hope Honey brings home a few with her."

Jim breathed a silent sigh of relief and chuckled, agreeing with his father. He wasn't ready for the third degree from anyone; certainly hoped that he didn't have on forthcoming from his father. The mess lying between him and Trixie was private, as far as he was concerned, even with the surprisingly large amount of people they shared that loved and cared for both of them. "I'll bet she will."

"I'll settle for chocolate chip until she gets home." They found themselves in the empty kitchen. It was sparkling clean, as it usually was, with nothing out of place. Even the fresh, gleaming white dishcloth hung in perfect folds from the silver handle of the stove. Matt went over to the automatic coffee maker that had already brewed a fresh, warm pot of coffee and quickly poured them two mugs of the hot liquid. A fresh plate of cookies sat, covered, next to the coffee maker. He picked up a mug, grabbed the plate, and carried them over to the kitchen table.

Jim absently picked up the remaining mug. His eyes skimmed over the kitchen, taking everything in, while he rapidly added up the facts as he recognized them to be. Absence of their cook. Cookies on a plate, waiting. Fresh, hot coffee in the maker. In the middle of the afternoon. The kitchen smelled of chocolate chips, percolating coffee, and his own father's grand scheme. Matthew Wheeler wasn't exactly subtle, Jim thought with an inner groan. Left with no other recourse, he decided to humor him. Choosing not to show his suspicions behind the artfully arranged scene, he pulled out a chair at the kitchen table that was only rarely used and lifted his mug in a salute to his father. "Thanks, Dad."

"No problem." Matt took a seat across from his son, pleased that he had arranged an apparently accidental meeting that wasn't exactly unplanned, truly believing that Jim was none the wiser. Mentally patting himself on the back, he strove for the best way to bring up the topic he wanted to discuss with Jim and settled upon an easy beginning to their conversation. "You had a good ride, then?"

Not fooled for a minute, Jim sat back against the wooden back of his chair, his mug in one hand and a full cookie in the other. He eyed the cookie, decided against eating it, and put it back down on the napkin. The coffee couldn't be passed up. He took a deep, fortifying sip of the warm liquid, felt its effects clear to his toes, and replied, "It's great to be back out in the preserve. I let Jupiter have his head. Living in the city is nice and convenient but it is nothing compared to the country. I feel…freer when I'm home, in Sleepyside. I can't say that I like the confines of the city all that much."

"I hear you." He lifted his mug in salute. "Your mother has always loved the rush of the city, any city, much more than I ever have. Personally, I think she likes the various shopping options the best of all, myself." A burst of laughter came out before he agreed with Jim, "But, like you, I'm more of a country boy at heart, myself. Believe it or not, I'm starting to look forward to the day when I can spend more time here instead of at one of my offices."

"Are you thinking about retiring?" Jim sat up and stared in undisguised curiosity at his father. He couldn't imagine his father not working. Matthew Wheeler simply lived and breathed the company and had for as long as he had known him.

"No. At least, not yet," Matt responded with a deep chuckle, shaking his head at Jim's astonishment. "I'm not ready to pass along the reins just yet. But there will come a time when I want to step back and take things a little slower." He paused and took a deep breath before taking the plunge. "That's actually something I want to talk to you about."

His mug forgotten in his hand, a frown working its way across his face, Jim studied his father intently, more than stunned at the turn the conversation was taking. He had been mentally gearing himself for a discussion about Trixie. He hadn't been expecting business talk, of all things. Feeling blindsided and confused, he leaned forward and questioned curiously, "What do you mean, Dad?"

"I wasn't certain if I should bring this up now or wait but, a few weeks ago, I thought now would be the perfect time to discuss it with you. It's not my intention to put any more pressure on you. You've got enough pressure as it is." Matt drew in a breath and ordered himself to go slowly so as not to chase his son away from the room. "I merely wanted to get your input on a new idea that has been growing in strength ever since you decided you wanted to come to work for W&H, International, once you have your law degree. I'm not certain when it will come to fruition or what form it will take. We'll merely see what happens when the time is right." He shrugged a broad shoulder but his eyes gleamed in anticipation.

Jim lifted both his eyebrows, intrigued but just confused, and inquired again, "What is it, Dad?"

Because it was one of the most important discussions he had ever had with his son, he took his time. Matt stared down into the dark liquid in his cup, swirled it around, and started off simply, "I'll start first by saying that I know you very well. You set a new course for yourself at the start of the semester and it's obvious to all of us that you are beyond committed to it. You're taking each hurdle as it comes, methodically and carefully, as you like to handle all the important issues and plans in your life, and I have no doubt in my mind that you'll be accepted into Harvard for your first year of law school. I'm proud of you for displaying such perseverance and strength." Matt paused to smile, his pride shining through. He didn't add that he would be proud of Jim no matter what he did with his life. His love and respect for the young man ran that deep.

A flush worked its way across his face, making the emerald green eyes even more vibrant. While the words warmed him, he couldn't help but realize something else was coming. "I feel there's a but coming on," Jim interjected after a moment.

Matt's chuckle this time wasn't quite as loud or boisterous. He held his hands out, palms up, and hastened to assure him, "Only a small one. It is important, though, maybe even more important than the choices that you've made." Brought to a halt, he searched for the words that wouldn't cause Jim to shut down or refuse him outright.

"Go for it," Jim told him, braced for what was coming next. His free hand gripped the edge of the table, the only outward sign that he was more nervous than he was letting on.

Much like his daughter, his words came out on a rush when he was nervous but only around the people he loved the most. Speaking quickly, Matt declared, "I worry about what you're sacrificing here, Jim."

The snap of his eyebrows showed he didn't understand what his father was attempting to say. "What am I sacrificing?"

Matt didn't waste another minute and hurried on, "Your happiness. You're driving yourself to excel, exactly as I knew you would, and you're succeeding excellently. Again, just as I knew you would. There's not a doubt in my mind that you'll pass the LSATs with flying colors the very first time you take them. It's in your blood to do well." He leveled his gaze on Jim and added, "But your mother and I need to know if you are truly happy and content with your new choice. It's such a drastic change from the school you wanted to start."

Soul-searching wasn't something he liked to do but it was something he was becoming extremely good at it. It seemed to be the only pastime he had partaken in since Trixie moved out to California. He found it odd that his father was pushing him into it. Because of the unexpected source, Jim gave a small, self-deprecating chuckle. Happy? No, he wouldn't use that adjective to describe himself. He side-stepped the question as neatly as he could without sharing everything with his father. "Yes, Dad. You don't have to worry about me. I am content with my new choice. I'm going to make it happen."

"I have no doubt about that," Matt murmured after taking a sip of his coffee. He caught how Jim didn't admit to being happy but, with a father's intuition, didn't push it any further. It was a detail he was planning on hitting a little later. "Well, we're back to my plans, then. Here's what I want to ask you to start considering. We can call it a contingency plan, if you like. Sometime in the next coming years, I'm going to want to start taking things slower. I'll need to step back from the company to do that. I won't have to be there for every board meeting or sign every contract. In short, I'm not going to be as active or vital in the everyday workings of the company. What I'm going to do is spend more time here, less time at the office or traveling around the world."

"I can understand that," Jim murmured under his breath, waiting as patiently as possible for his father to bring up what he wanted from him. "I've noticed that Mother is starting to complain more about the amount of traveling, too."

"You're right about that. She wants to set down permanent roots. She loves the penthouse and she loves Manor House. We'd probably still have to spend some time in the city but most of it would be here." Matt chuckled. Madeleine could be quite assertive when given the right incentive. She was becoming more and more vocal about the number of business trips they took each year. He heard the same complaint numerous times during the past fiscal year. She would continue to travel with him but she was looking forward to an end of it. "What I want you to put in the back of your mind is a consideration. I don't want an answer now. When I get to that point where I want to slow down, would you be willing to step up and start to take over for me? It won't be tomorrow or even within the next few years but it will come. Eventually."

Jim chose the wrong moment to take another sip. The swallow of coffee didn't go down easily, seemed to get lodged somewhere in his throat. When his coughing subsided and he swiped a hand under his eyes to wipe away the tears, he stared in almost comical astonishment at his father. Never had he expected his father to consider retiring. Even more surprising, never had he ever considered taken on such an important role at his father's company. "Say that again," he demanded after he regained control of his voice and didn't feel the urge to sputter any longer.

"I don't want an answer now," Matt reiterated hurriedly, hoping he wasn't asking too much too soon. "You've got other goals to achieve first. I understand that. I merely want to plant the seed now so that you're ready to give me an answer when the time comes. In roughly ten years, give or take a few," he inserted with a small chuckle. Through the shrewd eyes that had taken the business world by storm years earlier, he gauged Jim's reaction and prayed that he would at the very least consider his suggestion.

Flushing a bright red, hardly able to think, let alone formulate an answer, Jim slowly brought down his mug and laid it with precise precision on the smooth tiled tabletop. "There isn't any way I could give you an answer now," he finally admitted, stunned by the proposition. "I don't think I can. It's too much."

"And I don't want one now," Matt repeated strongly, back on firmer ground. Jim answered truthfully, wasn't hemming or hawing around, and hadn't rejected the offer outright. That was already half the battle. Feeling hungry, he reached for a cookie and devoured it in quick, efficient bites. Wiping the chocolate off of his fingers, he added, "I only want you to be prepared that I'll be asking you that question again someday."

Jim inclined his head to the side, needing to look at it from all different angles. "You're going to have to give me some more information here, Dad. What would happen if I decide to say no?"

Pleased with the question, delighted that Jim was curious about the other options he had already contemplated, Matt declared, "There are a number of possibilities for me to consider. I could still retain ultimate power but give more responsibilities to the others underneath me. Or I could step back completely and allow a new CEO to take charge. Then there's the final option." He stopped and stared ahead. The final option was the least appealing for him but it couldn't be ignored. Not wanting to put any guilt on Jim, he stated as evenly as possible, "I could always sell the company. I've had enough offers through the years to know that it would be quite lucrative and not that much of a hardship for me. I've thought about the possible options for a long time since I never expected either you or Honey to have an interest in running our company. You were so set on the boys' school. Honey wanted to become a private detective. My mind changed at the end of last summer, though, after you shared your new plans with me."

Jim nodded his head, understanding more than his father realized. "You would hate selling the company," he proclaimed accurately.

Matt's eyes widened. Normally a better keeper of his emotions, he came to the realization that it only worked with his employees or his business associates, not with the people closest to him. "I can't deny that, Jim. I can tell you that I had already accepted it as the most likeliest of all options before you floored me at the end of the summer with your new choice. If it comes to pass, I'll accept it. I'm a big boy, you know. No one will have to worry about me." He'd also be laughing his way to the bank. He would only ever sell if his price and certain other conditions were met, such as the new company retaining one hundred percent of his employees for at least a full year, if not longer. There was no compromise there. He wanted to make certain his people were taken care of. "Remember. You don't have to give me an answer right now."

"Thanks for understanding that." Jim drummed along the tabletop with his fingers, thought about himself as a CEO of a major business and nearly chuckled at the image. It was about the farthest career he had ever pictured for himself. But, he admitted with a philosophical shrug, he was on his way to becoming a corporate lawyer. Potentially replacing his father wasn't that far of a stretch, once he had more than a few years experience under his belt. "You've given me something more to think about than the LSATS or my last semester at NYU."

Jim wasn't out of the woods yet. Mentally preparing himself for the next topic, grateful that Jim had led them there without meaning to, Matt declared softly, "Or Trixie."

The change was immediate. The warmth evaporated off of Jim's face. His eyes went hard. And his body was ram-rod straight, showing more than words ever could how he still felt about her. His suspicions were correct. Unsure whether he should laugh or leave the room and avoid the conversation entirely, he grumbled under his breath, gesturing towards the coffee and the cookies, "That's what I thought all of this was about."

Matt lifted both eyebrows, chortling at himself for believing he had managed to fool Jim. Glancing around the kitchen, he questioned rhetorically, "I wasn't that subtle, was I?"

"Nope. Not at all." Needing something to do, he lifted the mug to his lips and took a long, fortifying sip. The taste of the coffee didn't register. He didn't feel the welcome kick of the caffeine. It could have been the worst possible sludge instead of the expensively delicious imported coffee that it was for all that it mattered to him. He waved an absent hand to encompass the kitchen. "Our cook is rarely ever absent from the kitchen in the afternoons especially when there is a dinner to prepare. Coffee usually isn't ready and waiting for any of us at this time of day. Plus there was a fresh batch of cookies. She usually doesn't bake in the afternoon, either."

"The cookies were a bit of an overkill." Matt sighed, shaking his head at himself and amazed that he had overlooked the obviousness of his plan. It was hard for him to admit it. "I guess I've never been that good at subterfuge, Jim. I usually shoot straight from the hip. Sorry about manufacturing the premise to get you here, alone. I did it because I didn't know how you would take either of my questions. I figured I would have a better shot with you after having a few of Cook's delicious cookies," he ended his rambling explanation with an apologetic shrug.

"No problem, Dad. So, we've discussed the first," Jim recapped, bracing himself for the second.

"That means now we're on to the next topic. Just for the record, I'm honor-bound to share whatever you say with your mother, too, about our entire discussion today. She made me promise," he shared with a tiny smile. "She wanted to be here with us but I convinced her it would be best if it was only the two of us. She only agreed to it if I promised to give her a play-by-play account when we go out to dinner later."

He gave a sharp burst of laughter and hid a shudder. It was going to be difficult discussing Trixie with his father. He was extremely thankful his mother wasn't around to join in. "I'm not surprised." Since his cup was almost empty, Jim got up and headed over to the coffee pot. He poured a new cup, although he didn't really want it and came back over. This time, he didn't sit. On edge, he waited for his father to begin. When the silence lengthened, he prompted his father, wanting to get it over with, "Well, Dad? What do you want to know?"

"We know you and Honey are having all of the Bob-Whites over here tonight, including Trixie," he said, using the name purposefully to witness Jim's reaction again. This time, Jim was much harder to read. There was almost no reaction. If Matt hadn't known him as well as he did, he would have missed the fact that Jim gripped his cup stronger than necessary. Inwardly applauding the control his son was applying while simultaneously having his own concerns mounting, he continued carefully, treading lightly, "Since neither your mother or I have ever discussed with you what happened between the two of you last summer, we thought now might be a good time to do it."

Jim didn't need to think. He gave the same answer he had offered every single Bob-White, the exact same one Trixie had shared with them, too. "It's between me and Trixie, Dad."

"I can see that." He eyed him over the rim of his mug. He contemplated his son, saw the rigid set of his facial features, and knew beyond a reasonable doubt that there wouldn't be getting around his answer. "We'll move on, then. There's no need to linger on that path. Since I can see that you have your mind set, can you tell me how you feel about her coming through our front door in a matter of a few, mere hours?"

His stomach twisted at the thought. There was an odd exhilaration that he would actually be able to see her again mixed with a deep, cool anger that didn't want to be released. Control. He was going to have to call on every single amount he possessed of it to not make himself turn into a stuttering, stumbling idiot. Unfortunately, he had never been known for his control. Hoping he would be able to keep it together and not blow up or make a fool out of himself in front of her and the rest of the Bob-Whites, he muttered, "I've had a lot of time to consider the possibilities, Dad. I knew the day would come. Tonight's finally it."

Trixie was the unvoiced reason behind why he chosen to spend Thanksgiving away from his family, working for the worthwhile charity. Matt didn't speak the truth of the statement. Instead, he nodded his head sagely. "You didn't answer my question, Jim. You merely side-stepped it. Are you prepared for it?"

"I'm not going to rant and rave or kick her out or anything like that." Unsettled by the directness of the question that his father wouldn't let him shrug off, frustrated with Matt's persistence, he shifted from foot to foot and put the full mug down on the table. Running a hand through his thick red hair, he added, "Look, Dad. I don't know if I'm prepared for Trixie or not. I can honestly say that I'm not looking forward to it. I'm certain she is not, either. But I can't predict what's going to happen when we finally see each other again. I can tell you what I want to do. I plan on being…civil."

It was going to be a disaster if that was true. Having an inkling on the plans his daughter had concocted with Di to toss the two unsuspecting co-presidents together, Matt hid an inner cringe and wondered if he could persuade Honey away from her idea. Wanting to prepare Jim for the possibility without sharing his thoughts, he suggested carefully, "I'd suggest that you try and talk things out with Trixie, Jim, even if you two decide not to renew your relationship. It's not good for you two to be in limbo for such an extended period of time. She's been an important part of your life for a very long time, just as you have been an important part of hers."

"If I was so important to her, why did she decide to withdraw from NYU and move out to California?" burst out of him before he could stop it. Feeling the righteous anger beginning to ignite within him, Jim took a physical step back at the same time he ordered himself to take a mental one back. He blew out a frustrated breath.

"I can't answer it for certain, Jim. I don't know what happened. You're pretty determined not to share that with me or anyone." He held up his hand to halt the explanation from Jim. "I respect your decision. All I can say is that it sounds to me like Trixie was awfully hurt to have made such an unexpected decision." He took a deep breath himself and added, hating the fact that he was going to hurt his own son with his next words, "It's the same emotion you must have been experiencing to let go of your plans to open your own school and to start pursuing law school."

The truth was never easy to hear, let alone to feel. The anger dissipated as quickly as it had come. Left with no defense, Jim stared at his father sharply, surprised that Matt saw so much into him. "It could be," he muttered lowly, wondering if Trixie had made her choice for the exact same reason that he had. He still had trouble accepting the fact that she had left, without telling him or offering any type of warning or farewell. Ahead of time. A written letter didn't cut it, not after everything the two of them had been to each other.

"That's what I thought." Matt steepled his fingers together under his chin. "You'll only be able to put everything behind you if you finally decide to talk with her, Jim. I'd recommend that you do it, for both of your sakes." Calling on his years of leading board room meetings and heated negotiations, he stared his son down, refusing to let him hide from his suggestion.

Jim didn't know if he could hold an impartial conversation with her, let alone a complicated one that delved to the heart of their problems. Unfortunately, his father made an awful lot of sense. "We'll see," he finally uttered after another long, wordless stretch between them. Leaving his full cup of coffee on the kitchen table, he started towards the door, ready to call an end to their time in the kitchen. "You've given me a lot to think about, Dad."

"That was my plan," he responded dryly and drained the last of his coffee. "Have a good evening, Jim. Your mother and I won't be here. We're having dinner at the country club tonight. I'll be briefing her about our conversation then."

Jim opened the door and threw a glance over his shoulder, one edge of his lip curled up in amusement. "I'll see you later, then. Take care and enjoy your dinner." He left the room even more unsettled than he had when he had entered it. His father had given him a lot to ponder. There was the stunning job opportunity that would be offered at some point in the future. That alone was enough to send him reeling. More importantly, and much closer on the horizon, was the fact that Trixie would be arriving at his house, in a matter of hours. His father was right. Talking it out was the best option for both of them. The only obstacle standing in the way was his own battered heart…and hers, he admitted reluctantly. Add in the fact that they both possessed a matching stubborn streak a mile wide and he knew they wouldn't be conversing about anything important anytime soon. He doubted if she would be seeking him out. His plans didn't include talking directly to her, let alone holding a private, intense, and most likely emotional discussion. What would the night bring? He didn't have a clue.


	42. Chapter 42

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Forty-One

Dressed in forest green jeans topped off with a soft white sweater and her hair pulled off of her face with sparkling barrettes, Honey was a vision of casual elegance. She surveyed her appearance one last time in her mirror, dabbed on lipstick that she knew she would only end up chewing off sometime within the next hour, and slipped on her flats. The evening was about to begin. Even the thought of spending the entire evening with her boyfriend wasn't enough to quell the butterflies circulating throughout her stomach. She wasn't the only one with the affliction. All five of them had been dreading the first time Trixie and Jim would be around each other. No one knew what to expect. There was hope that they were going to take one look at each other and forget all about the unpleasantness of the past few months. Admittedly, the hope was an extremely faint one. Honey knew it was only a flimsy little fantasy without much of a chance of coming to fruition. She, as well as the others, were expecting fireworks or a stony silence. It would be interesting, and a bit heartbreaking, to see which way it went.

With a holiday gift bag filled to the brim with the movie choices for their viewing pleasure dangling from her hand, she walked across the hallway and approached her brother's half-opened door. Composing herself, she knocked softly on the door and poked her head inside, her smile as large as she could make it. "Hello, Jim," she called out with forced cheer, looking at her brother who was once again standing at his window, staring out over the lawn.

The curtain fell back to cover up the window. Jim faced her immediately. He tugged at the edges of his dark green sweater that deepened the emerald of his eyes, the only outward sign of his own case of strong nerves. "Honey," he greeted with a semblance of a smile and came towards her, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. He waited until he reached her. Wanting to dispel any mention of Trixie, he inquired, "Is everything ready for tonight?"

She held up the bag with a cheerfully smiling Santa Claus on it and shook it in mock glee. "Ho, ho, ho!" she declared joyfully, hoping to make him laugh. "Di and I worked extra hard this year. All the holiday movies we want to watch are inside."

"Want to watch?" he paraphrased with as much humor as he could muster. Holiday movie night had become a B.W.G. tradition the first time Brian and Jim came home from college when the rest of them were still in high school. As it had been their idea, Honey and Di had appointed themselves as the selectors of the movies and had never offered to give up the responsibility. Most of the choices they made were universally sentimental, extremely sappy, and filled to overflowing with holiday cheer. They generally elicited a lot of teasing and groaning from the other Bob-Whites, although Honey and Di always made certain to put in a few movies that all of them could agree on. The playful arguing and complaining was as much a part of the tradition as sitting down and watching the movies themselves. Recalling their holiday movie nights from the past, remembering last year's specifically when Trixie had spent it cuddled up against his side, with his arm thrown across her and without a care in the entire world, Jim went quiet; completely, totally, almost eerily quiet.

"Want to watch, Jim? You should know our taste by now. We like to keep all of you on your toes!" Giggling, Honey shook the bag again and looked up at her brother, her hazel eyes gleaming with merriment. Once she got a good look at his face, her happiness dried up. She gently laid a hand on his forearm, her concerns resurfacing. "Don't worry, Jim," she told him, knowing that Trixie was being assaulted with the same doubts and worries. "Tonight is going to work out just fine for both you and Trixie. It'll be like diving into the lake the first time in the summer. It'll be a bit of a shock at first but you'll get used to it. You and Trixie. You're both pretty strong swimmers. Plus you have all of us there for you. No matter what happens, we love you and will support you both. You can count on us."

Emotion flared briefly in his eyes at the mention of Trixie's name. He glanced at the clock, saw the time and hid an inner groan. It was the only time he could ever remember dreading a Bob-White event. At least he wouldn't have to be alone with her. That, in itself, was a double-edged sword. They would have many curious people watching them instead. It was going to suck to be on display, like actors in a bad play who couldn't remember their lines. As he had mentioned to his father, civil and polite had to be the order of the day, the only way he could act towards her. Letting his true feelings show was not an option, not with such a large, interested and inquisitive audience ready to pounce on their every move. Knowing Trixie as well as he knew her, he expected that she had already come to the same realization. It was not going to be easy considering both of them were not exactly skilled at keeping their feelings below the surface.

"It won't be bad, Jim. At least, not that bad," she amended. "I promise. It will be a relaxing evening, for all of us." The words sounded hollow to her own ears. She squeezed his hand. About to say something else, she knew not what, the cheerful ding of the doorbell shot through the house with the force of a bullet from a gun. She jumped in her spot, laughed at herself for her own case of unsettled nerves and scurried towards the door. "I'll see you downstairs, Jim! It looks like our first guest of the evening has arrived." With a whirl, she was gone.

Jim followed at a much slower rate of speed. He made it to the top of the stairs in time to watch Honey usher in a smiling Di. Honey accepted the plastic container of Di's delicious spice cake, her contribution to their party, while she slipped out of her coat. After Di hung it up they immediately put their heads together and started whispering something. He idly wondered what it was during his descent from the second floor. By the time he made it to the bottom, the doorbell was ringing again. Swallowing a sharp breath, that damn and unwelcome anticipation riding him hard, he experienced an odd shiver of disappointment and relief spear through him when Honey stopped whispering long enough to let a grinning Dan in. "Merry Christmas," Jim said to the gathered group, stepping off the last stair.

Two large plastic bags, filled with an assortment of snacks, were clutched in Dan's hands. He dropped them on the floor and shouldered his way out of his brown leather jacket, hanging it with practiced ease on the coat stand standing unobtrusively near the door. Three coats were still noticeably missing. Deciding it was a good thing to have a front row seat for the very first meeting, Dan repeated the greeting, "Merry Christmas to you, too."

A large smile of welcome wreathing her face, Di nodded at each of the Bob-Whites in attendance. She stood on her tiptoes, searched out the rest of the main hall, first for her boyfriend and then for her other best friend. She wasn't as certain as Dan. Somehow, she would have preferred missing out on witnessing Jim and Trixie's first official meeting since the summer. Her light, lilting laugh carried a nervous quality to it that she couldn't disguise and was recognized by all. "I see you have the movies," she announced to Honey, attempting to set a nice tone to the evening.

Dan's lip curled up. He barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes, certain he wasn't going to like many of the movies residing inside the bag. The moaning and groaning created by their movie selections was too much fun, which was why the men had never tried to take the chore from them. "I can't wait to see what gems you've picked out for us this year," he joked, playfully nudging Jim with his elbow to get his intake on the selections.

Jim's mumble back was incoherent. The odds were neatly stacked. The next time that doorbell rang she would be on the other side, waiting to be let in to his house. He couldn't take his eyes off of the closed front door, knowing, just knowing, that at any moment she would be coming through it. His hands started to sweat while his heart rate sped up. Oblivious to the shared and knowing glances being passed around by the other three, he didn't offer another response other than his own garbled mumble.

Frowning at the two women, Dan shook his head imperceptibly at them, telling them without words that their idea to maneuver an unsuspecting Trixie and Jim together wasn't a brilliant one, especially after seeing Jim's face. He smothered a low groan when they both turned their best militant stare back at him. With a pair of violet and a pair of honey-gold eyes staring him down, he didn't stand a chance. They weren't going to be swayed. Hating his weakness for not being able to tell any of the girls within their midst a definitive no, he lifted his eyebrows in exasperated resignation. He wasn't certain which was worse: having Trixie and Jim ticked off at him, should they figure out how the three had manipulated him, or the dangerous tag-team consisting of Honey Wheeler and Diana Lynch. Hating to admit it, he thought it would be the latter one. They could be relentless if they believed the situation warranted it. "Where are we meeting to watch the movies, anyway?" he asked into the quiet.

"I helped Celia set up some refreshments in the family room earlier this evening. Brian is bringing over a container of Mrs. Belden's famous cookies. Di brought the cake." Honey knew her words were coming out fast but she couldn't stop them. The initial start of their holiday was nerve-wracking for all involved. But, as she had said to Jim a few minutes earlier, it would get better. It was the initial plunge that was the worst…she hoped. If all of their get-togethers contained this much drama, she had a strong suspicion that the seven would need something much stronger than soda or cider to get them through their shared times. Since none of them drank anything that could remotely be termed stiff or strong, they wouldn't have much of a chance. "We set up different options for drinks, too. Hot apple cider is already in the room, waiting for us."

Dan pointed to his bags of potato chips and pretzels, his usual contribution to their get-togethers since he preferred to stay out of the kitchen as much as humanly possible. "Where do you want these?"

His words brought Jim out of his untimely and unwisely fascination with the door. Gesturing down the hallway, grunting another unintelligible answer, he took the cake from Di and started towards the family room, where they were going to hold their party. It was much more comfortable and much less formal than the living room that his mother had elegantly decorated. The surround sound system and the large plasma television set adhered to the wall in the family room were much more acceptable than the fancy living room.

Grabbing his bags, Dan followed alongside him, glancing at him curiously out of the corner of his eyes. Jim, he noted, hadn't spoken a true word yet, and looked about as grim as he could possibly get. Definitely not in the holiday mood. "Are you ready?" he murmured quietly, going straight to the heart of the matter. There was no need to ask what he was ready for.

Jim lifted an eyebrow, considered the question. "As ready as I'll ever be," he replied and fell silent. He couldn't help it and threw one last look back towards the main hallway, where Honey and Di were still clustered together, and hadn't made a move to leave their post at the front door yet. He didn't know if they were waiting for Trixie or for their boyfriends.

Dan shook his head. He wished the girls weren't thinking what they were thinking or, he corrected himself after staring back at them, planning what they were planning. It wasn't going to work. He could tell by the hard set of Jim's chin. From the time he had spent with Trixie over the past few days, she wasn't any better prepared for a meeting between them. He could only hope it didn't blow up in all their faces…or that Trixie and Jim didn't want to maim them when they realized what had happened. He followed Jim into the family room.

The family room was decorated cheerfully for the holiday. A nicely sized Christmas tree sat in front of a row of windows, decorated in twinkling bright white lights, silvery tinsel, and jovial ornaments, many of which Honey had made herself over the years in her free time. A table had been set up against a wall. A row of snowmen mugs stood sentinel next to the extra large thermos of hot cider, prepared to do their job. If cider wasn't the preferred choice of drink, cans of soda were available. Red and green paper plates were sitting next to matching napkins. Holiday music came out quietly from the speakers. As The Muppets counted down _The Twelve Days of Christmas_, Jim walked over to the refreshment table and placed the cake in an empty spot. Because his throat was suddenly very, very dry, he poured himself a mug. As he stared down into it, he fervently wished he held something more potent than mere cider.

Aware of his friend's preoccupation, Dan ripped open his chips and poured them into an empty snack bowl. "There," he declared with his trademark grin, placing the bowl off to the side. "That's Mart's bowl. He should have it finished before the first movie even starts." He chuckled and picked up the next bag, quickly adding it into the next plastic bowl. "This is for the rest of us to share."

Jim managed a weak laugh, not so much because he found it humorous but mainly because Dan was attempting to lighten the mood for him. If nothing else, he appreciated it. Nodding at the other bowl, he decreed, "Good planning, Dan. You're right. Mart can put away food like no one I've ever met before."

"Hey, you know me, Frayne. I know my Beldens," Dan retorted arrogantly without thinking. When he realized what he said, a look of chagrin bloomed swiftly across his face. "Damn it, Jim," he swore under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut, and then opening them. Remorse he could not express sat heavily on him.

Jim cut him off before he could apologize further with an authoritative wave of his hand. It was going to happen. All of his friends were going to make innocent jokes and wisecracks or bring up her name to him in completely harmless ways, in the exact way they would do the same to her, and all without meaning to. He couldn't expect them to censure her from their conversations for his sake. It wouldn't be possible. They were too ingrained in each other's lives; had way too many connections and shared way too many loved ones. Instead, he was going to have to learn how to cope with it and to not let it affect him each time he heard her name. So far, he wasn't doing that great of a job. "Don't, Dan. It's all right," Jim replied, schooling his own features. He went with the old stand-by and shrugged a shoulder. "It's not a big deal."

Having Jim apparently shrug it off didn't make Dan feel any better. He blew out a frustrated breath and uttered hoarsely, "Yeah. Right. Not a big deal." Before he could add anything else, the doorbell let out its musical chirp again. The last one of the evening. There wasn't any doubt about who was on the other side of the door.

Jim couldn't prevent it. Even knowing that it was inevitable, that she was going to be coming inside his house, his entire body went rigid. It almost felt like there was a rubber band stretching across his shoulder blades, he became that tight. His eyes, normally warm and friendly, turned flat while it registered exactly who his sister was welcoming inside. His lips pressed together. He was surprised that Dan couldn't hear the blood roaring in his ears or the sound of his heart pounding against his chest. If he strained hard enough, he could almost hear the different assortment of voices out in the main hall.

Using the training he would need in order to become a police officer, Dan watched him closely and missed none of the nuances of expressions running across Jim's face. He felt his own sympathies well up for both of his friends. Trixie was going to have just as difficult of a time. He imagined that walking the short distance of plush carpeting between the front hall and the family room was going to feel like the equivalence of walking the plank for her. He almost thought that she would rather plunge into the icy ocean than into a room full of interested and supportive Bob-Whites. Positioning himself close to Jim, wanting to give his friend some moral support, he pasted what he imagined was his normal grin on his lips and turned towards the door, waiting for the rest of their friends to arrive. "The next few minutes are going to be the hardest. It'll only get easier," he advised under his breath.

Stunned that Dan was repeating the same sentiment to him that Honey had only a few minutes ago, Jim allowed it to sink in. It wouldn't make the next few minutes any simpler but it had to be done. Severing ties completely was simply not an option. Those thoughts and many more went through his mind while his whole body began to respond to her presence even before she came into the room. It was that damn electrical pull that existed between them, one that he wished wasn't so strong or even there any longer. If he hadn't already accepted that she was here, in this very house, only a short walk down the hall and a sharp left turn, he knew it now. Since he couldn't make his lips curve up into anything even remotely close to resembling a smile, he settled for second best: a smooth, remote expression. Needing something constructive to do, not wanting to be caught standing and staring at the doorway like a fool, he strolled over to the Christmas tree. He tapped a silver bell, listened to the tinny, graceful sound it made, and waited, his eyes on the tree but his entire being focused on the footsteps and voices coming their way.

The second she stood on the threshold, flanked by her brothers on either side of her and Honey and Di standing anxiously behind her, the pull became stronger. It couldn't be ignored or overlooked. Wishing it wasn't so, he forced himself to relax and, in what felt like extremely slow motion, turned his body until he was facing the doorway. Intentionally not looking directly at her, he responded with as cheery of a 'Merry Christmas' as he could to the Belden brothers, who were watching him as closely as the others in the room.

Slowly, ever so slowly, knowing that every single set of eyes were on the two of them, and aware of the expected hush that had befallen the normally loud and boisterous crew, he looked straight ahead, into the blue eyes that taunted him in his dreams. In the short glance he gave her, he caught the changes and, damn his fickle heart, memorized them with an intensity he didn't want to possess any longer. To his eyes, she was even more beautiful. Breathtakingly so. The longer, sun-streaked hair, curling just below her shoulders. The glow of her healthy-looking tan, which no one else in the room could rival at this time of the year. The cranberry red shirt, tucked into a pair of faded blue jeans that expertly molded her legs, with a thin brown belt fastened around her waist. A pair of dark brown boots covered her feet, comfortable and well-worn. The absurd thought that he doubted if she ever wore them in San Diego ran through his mind. And no exuberant greeting on her lips or impulsive run across the room to toss her arms around him, the way she had greeted him last Christmas. In that short span where their eyes met, he saw the same expressionless look that was on his face reflected on hers.

It was going to be cool, possibly even more frigid than the winter air outside. Frustrated, Honey stared up at the ceiling, grumbled incoherently under her breath, and wished for the heat of the fireworks instead. Not having witnessed the fight they had before the advent of the summer storm, she erroneously thought that anything would be better than cool politeness. Ever the hostess, she jumped in immediately and addressed the assembled group. "I see Jim and Dan have already broken out the hot cider. Are there any other takers?"

Just like that, they were no longer the center of attention. She would have agreed to anything at that moment to break the tension. Grateful, Trixie nodded at Honey and breathed out a wispy, "Yes." She walked into the family room, amazed that she was actually in the same room with Jim. In the second her eyes had collided with his, she had catalogued a few changes in Jim, too. Purple smudges under his eyes told the tale of the hard toll of his past semester at school had taken on him or of many sleepless nights or maybe a combination of both. No welcoming, lop-sided grin. No merry twinkle to the emerald of his eyes. Only a cool, reserved tone to his voice. Polite. Almost icily so. She thought it a most effective weapon. It had practically slayed her on the spot.

She felt another set of quizzical eyes on her and glanced up at Dan, who had left his post near Jim and was now close to her elbow. "You're doing fine," he whispered lowly for her ears only and smiled encouragingly. "Just be yourself, Trix. Be comfortable. Be yourself. That's all. We're all friends here."

"Thanks, Dan," she murmured back, mustering up a tiny smile for his sake. Not all, she wanted to correct him, but didn't. It was blatantly obvious to her that she and Jim could not be considered friends, not right now. In the future…yeah, she seriously doubted it. But she allowed Dan to lead her closer towards the circle, aware that it was certainly a broken one, and forced a smile to her lips that she hoped touched the blue of her eyes. It didn't.

Di helped out Honey, passing around fresh mugs of hot apple cider. A distraction was needed, something to keep all of their minds off of Trixie and Jim, and something that would the two co-presidents regain their equilibriums. Smoothing a hand over her dark hair, she chirped out gaily, "Since we're all fresh off the end of our fall semesters, I vote that we start relaxing immediately and begin our movie night right now. Will anyone second my idea?"

Mart agreed immediately. "Of course. It's a lovely idea, Di," he said, picking up her hand and pressing a gallant kiss to the back of it. When Dan playfully nudged the full bowl of chips his way, Mart accepted it with a chuckle and brought it over to the loveseat. Getting settled against the far corner, he patted the cushion next to him and waited for Di to take her seat.

"You'd think any idea Di came up with was lovely," Dan joked laughingly, doing his best to help the moment. Balancing a plate filled with chips, pretzels, cookies and cake, he put it down on the coffee table and went back for his cider. "Even if she suggested that we go outside and take a dip in the lake right at this very minute."

Knowing what his friend was trying to do, Brian laughed. It wasn't deep or normal but he was willing to help out the good of the cause, especially when it involved his sister's well-bearing. He touched her forearm for support and accepted a mug from Honey. He saw the same desire within her beautiful hazel eyes. Keeping the seven of them together was imperative, no matter what. All of them were willing to work to make certain it happened. "Dan's got you there, Mart," Brian added, slipping an arm around Honey's slim shoulders and pulling her towards him. He felt the tension within her, whispered something soothingly into her ear, before saying, "But starting the movies now sounds like a terrific idea."

Mart glanced at the gift bag dangling from Honey's hand with mock horror. "So, gentlemen, do you think we should be nervous? We can never quite trust the girls we let into our club to pick out good, quality movies. I vote against the sentimental, heartwarming kind that they seem to want to push off on us. I'd go for a good action one, though. You know, something light and fun, like _Die Hard_. It's the perfect holiday movie, if you ask me."

Honey lifted her eyebrows and answered sweetly, giggling when Di swatted him on the shoulder. "Sorry, Mart. I can't imagine why but _Die Hard _did not make the cut this time around. There isn't anything that's too sentimental in the bag, though. I promise." Leaning over, she opened the bag and emptied it out onto the table.

As the girls had predicted, the guys groaned when _Love Actually_ and _The Holiday _fell out on top of the table. Loudly. Even Jim found it within himself to interrupt his latest attempt to not stare at Trixie and managed a half-hearted one. "Absolutely, positively not," Brian and Mart declared at the same time, then colored when they were on the receiving end of the disappointed look only girlfriends could successfully give their boyfriends. They shared frowns of chagrin with each other and closed their mouths, leaving it up to the other members who had testosterone to take up their cause.

Dan nudged Jim and chortled in glee. "See? I told you. They're whipped," he whispered with a rascally grin. Jim, of course, wasn't paying attention, hadn't been paying attention to much of the conversation existing between the others. Dan was the only one who saw the way he forced his eyes not to look in Trixie's direction. It heartened him. If Jim was having so much trouble not staring at Trixie, there was the possibility that hope still existed for the two.

Trixie wrapped her hands around her mug, hoping that the sweetly hot liquid would make a warm path straight through to her soul. Standing back from the group, finding comfort in watching instead of participating, she listened in as Dan argued with the girls, with Mart and Brian chiming in now and again, before Dan finally won out, holding up a copy of _Scrooged_ with a happy, satisfied grin.

"The winnah!" Dan announced triumphantly, making the others snort with amusement, and did a little jig that had Mart laughing uproariously.

Sighing dramatically, Honey gingerly took the movie from him and started setting it up on the complicated entertainment system that required way too many remote controls. Grateful for the large space and especially the large amount of furniture within the room, Trixie breathed a silent sigh of relief and carried her plate of unwanted refreshments over to the large and comfortable sofa. She wouldn't be forced to sit close to Jim unless he picked a seat next to her. Instead, she took the first spot she could get; a corner seat on the sofa, with only one spot available next to her. Her heart raced with a mixture of relief and chagrin when Dan sat down next to her.

"Need a little space?" he murmured lowly. It hadn't escaped his notice that she was unnaturally quiet or that she wasn't acting like herself.

"Yes," she whispered under her breath. It had to be the quietest she had ever been during a Bob-White get-together. Jim wasn't doing much better, either, she admitted to herself. He sat down in a recliner at the opposite end, as far away from her as he could get. All for the best, Trixie thought. For a second, one exceedingly long second, their eyes met again and held across the span of the room. She didn't hear the sounds of the movie, the whispered conversation between Brian and Honey, or the chuckles from Mart as he teased Dan about his celebratory jig. She found herself lost in a sea of green. Cool, nonchalant green. She couldn't read anything in the eyes, which was practically unfathomable to her. In all the years she had known Jim, he had never been closed off to her before. He was certainly closed off to her now. As one, they turned and stared at the television screen as Mart's choice started to play across the screen.

"Don't worry. I'll run interference if needed," Dan said for her ears only. He settled against the overly stuffed cushions, squeezed her hand, offering the only comfort that he could, and then attacked his small mound of delicious delicacies.

Having no appetite whatsoever, Trixie put her plate on the coffee table and picked up a small pillow. She hugged it to her chest and curled up against the corner of the comfortable sofa. She watched the movie as it played but couldn't find the interest or the strength to follow along. She had that same restless feeling that overtook her when she kept reading the same line in a book, over and over again. She couldn't focus or enjoy the movie. All she could do was try not to look at Jim. Her neck hurt from the exertion of staring straight ahead or maybe from the tension of the night. It had to get better, she thought to herself, her lips pulled down at the corners. It simply had to. She wasn't certain if she could stand it if it didn't.

More vocal than Trixie, Jim joined in the conversation sporadically. He was the only one who knew his laughter was forced or that he struggled more than once to follow what his friends were saying. From his vantage point in the recliner, he had a perfect view of Trixie, without her realizing it. He spent more time than he wanted to watching her as unobtrusively as possible. Under his close scrutiny, he missed nothing, noting the way she played with the fringed edges of the pillow or the fact that her leg jiggled on and off throughout the movie, a testament to the fact that she was extremely nervous. Her unusual quietness also registered on him. Somehow, it made him talk even more.

When the movie ended an extremely long time later for her, intermission was immediately declared. The men excused themselves and made a mad exodus towards the door, another tradition of theirs. The four always tried to beat the girls back to the room in order to claim the second choice for their next movie selection. "We need more popcorn," Honey announced after taking careful survey of the refreshment tale. She jumped up from her spot and grabbed Trixie's hand, hoping to infuse some excitement into her friend. "Let's go, Trix! We'll take care of the popcorn in a jiffy!" She pulled her forward, winked at Di. It was time for their plan to commence. She started down the hall, caught Dan looking back at her from the other end of the hall, and nodded her head, giving him his silent orders.

Missing the blatant by-plays, showing plainly how agitated she was, Trixie obediently followed along. "I noticed that Mart put a severe dent in the popcorn," she said to Honey, searching out something to say that would prevent her friends from questioning her about the progress of the evening so far. "It's no wonder that we're already out of it and the second movie hasn't even started yet."

"Let me help, too," Di declared and joined her friends in the hallway. Wanting to give a few orders herself, she paused, lifted her eyebrows, and looked pointedly at Dan. Just as he had when he had received nonverbal orders from Honey, he nodded in reluctant agreement. With a look of dismay on his handsome face, he walked like a condemned man back to the family room. She smiled sweetly at him and waited until Trixie and Honey had cleared the end of the hallway before whispering, "The kitchen, Dan. Get Jim to the kitchen." She giggled at his unintelligible grunt and then rejoined her friends, reveling in the knowledge that Dan would uphold his end of the deal and get Jim there.

Expecting to be lambasted with a thousand and one questions by both of her friends, Trixie stopped near the base of the stairs and faced them, standing her ground. Shoulders squared, she waited for them to start firing the questions her way. Her answers were ready and waiting to come out. She was comically puzzled when neither of them brought up the momentous moment. Her mouth dropped into an O of astonishment when Di overlooked the golden opportunity and addressed Honey instead.

"Oh, Honey!" Di slapped a hand to her forehead, calling on her acting skills, and trying not to arose Trixie's suspicions. "You're going to have to forgive me. I think I'm going to have to pass on helping out with the popcorn. I can't believe I forgot to get that book back from you. You know, the one that I lent you at Thanksgiving break? A friend of mine needs it back. I promised to mail it out to her so she could have it as soon as possible. Do you still have it upstairs?"

It took Honey a minute to catch on to what Di was doing. When she figured it out, she yelled out, a little too loudly, a little too shrilly, and much too breathlessly, "Oh! Right. Yes. The book! Of course, Di. It is upstairs. In my room, just like you said. Would you want me to get it now?"

Di had to chuckle at the way Honey had nearly fumbled the pass. Honey Wheeler had never been adept at lying. She doubted if it was a skill that the sweet woman would ever truly possess. Lifting her eyebrows in amusement, she answered, "I'll go up with you to get it…but only if Trixie doesn't mind making the popcorn by herself. Is that all right with you, Trix? You don't mind if we leave you in the lurch?"

Thinking she had successfully avoided a talk she didn't want to have through no means of her own, Trixie gratefully grabbed onto the idea with both hands and didn't let it go. "Yes!" she answered vehemently, amazed that she was going to get a few coveted minutes alone, away from the other six people in the house. Her response caused both Honey and Di to giggle with glee. "It's not a problem. I'll be glad to meet you back in the room for our next movie with the popcorn, of course." She turned on her heels and practically fled the scene, hardly believing her good luck.

With a rosy blush coloring her cheeks, Honey stared after Trixie as she hurried away. She let out a relieved breath, thinking that she hadn't seen her friend move that quickly in a long, long time, and chuckled again. "Sorry about that, Di," she murmured as they changed directions and headed towards the stairs, sighing at the way she nearly dropped the ball. "It took me a minute to understand what you meant about the book. I'm not that good at improvising, I guess. I can't believe I almost blew it."

Di aimed a lazy grin her way, pleased that their unsuspecting friend was now entering the kitchen. Jim, she knew, would be arriving there soon. Crossing her fingers, she hoped they had done the right thing. "Don't worry. You saved yourself quite nicely. Amazingly enough, even with your slight blunder, Trixie doesn't suspect anything. It goes to show you how agitated she is. Now we only have to hope that Dan comes through for us."

"Do you think he will?" Honey's large, hazel eyes were filled with questions. She paused halfway up the stairs and peered down, expecting Jim to materialize out of nowhere right before her eyes.

"Have you ever known him to refuse anything when one of us flutter our big, feminine eyes at him?" she retorted laughingly with a wry smile. She threaded her arm through Honey's and placed one trendy black boot on the next stair. "Come on. Let's get to your room and look for that nonexistent book. At least then Trixie may really think that's what we were getting upstairs." Giggling, the two young women rushed up the stairs, both praying inwardly that Jim and Trixie would find some kind of peace with each other.

Unaware of the cackling duo on the floor above her or the fact that Dan was at that very moment hiding the rest of the soda in the family room behind the large poinsettias so that Jim would have to go to the kitchen to retrieve new ones for the second movie, Trixie pushed open the kitchen door and flipped on the light switch. Even though it was an extremely large and overly spacious room, she had always felt comfortable in the Wheeler's kitchen. As a frequent guest to the house, she knew where to find the container of popcorn kernels, as well as the hot air popper. In no time at all she was watching the hard kernels turned into fluffy white pieces of fresh popcorn and work their way out of the popper and into the bowl.

Whistling a holiday tune under his breath, sent by Dan under the pretense of getting more beverages for the group that his friend had declared parched, Jim threw open the kitchen door without a second thought, having no clue that the room was already occupied. He saw her immediately, standing next to the counter while the corn popped merrily away. It hit him then, what his friend had done to him. Damning Dan, finding an obscene amount of joy in the inventive curses swirling through his mind, the whistle fell off of his lips in mid-note. "Hi," he remarked civilly, the first words other than the murmured 'Merry Christmas' he had spoken directly to her and her brothers, and moved forward to the stainless silver refrigerator. Outwardly, he appeared to be nonchalant and at ease. Inside was a different manner entirely. He reached in and blindly grabbed a six-pack of soda to bring back to refurbish the stash in the entertainment room, without bothering to look at the name on the cans.

"Hi, Jim," came out in a small squeak that made the flush that had attacked her face at the unexpected sight of him deepen. Dipping her head, needing something to do, she unplugged the popper and brought the bowl over to the stove. Acting as if the simple action was one of paramount importance, she poured the melted butter over the snack, watched the fluffy white popcorn hiss with the advent of the warm liquid, and added a generous dollop of salt to it. All the while her heart was hammering wildly in her chest and her brain had shut down. "I'm getting fresh popcorn for movie number two. Honey and Di sent me in to make more popcorn while they went upstairs," she finally said after placing the pan in the sink with a loud clink that made her jump.

He didn't have a clue that he was clutching a six-pack of Diet Caffeine Free Pepsi, his mother's favorite soda and a beverage that would certainly raise more than a few eyebrows when he re-entered the room, he narrowed his eyes at her while he considered the information. To him, it sounded even more suspicious. Dan wasn't alone. "Dan volunteered me to get drinks."

Dan. Honey. Di. She recalled the pointed looks she had seen the three of them sharing throughout the evening, the way Honey and Di had offered to come with her and then had departed for Honey's room on a totally lame excuse to retrieve some unnamed book and Dan…she wasn't certain how he fit into it but judging from the fed-up look on Jim's face, a look she knew had to be reflected on hers, he was part of it, too. The smell of a set-up was even stronger than the delicious aroma of the freshly popped popcorn drifting through the room. Her eyes slitted the tiniest of bits. There was no doubt about it. She muttered under her breath, unaware that she was uttering his sentiments, "They're going to have to pay."

Blessed with a strong amount of intelligence, Jim had come to the same conclusion. It felt odd to have something they agreed on between them, even a tiny something. His mouth tugged up the slightest bit. "They certainly are." There were hundreds of things he wanted to say to her, ranging from the furious and the hurt to the sweet and sentimental, but none of them would slip out past his thin lips. Furious with himself, and with her, he turned around but was halted when she called out to him.

"Jim. Wait a second." Trixie brushed back a curl, threw caution to the wind and hurried over to him, unconsciously spilling a little of popcorn. It fell under the table, out of sight but Celia and the Wheeler's cook would grumble when they found it in the morning. She carelessly tossed the large bowl on the countertop and stopped, uncertain what she wanted to say.

His heart rate increased, in trepidation or in relief, he couldn't tell. As it was, he stood, his eyes shuttered and no smile on his lips. When she stared at him but didn't continue speaking, he urged her on, "What is it? We have hungry and thirsty friends in there." He despised the fact that he couldn't bring himself to say her name.

Trixie's blue eyes widened at the impatience she heard in his voice, unaware that it wasn't directed at her but at himself. When her feet wanted to take a step back from him, she forced herself to stand her ground. Fingering the edge of her shirt, Trixie searched in vain for something to say, stunned with how difficult a task it was for her. She couldn't remember ever having a hard time carrying a conversation with Jim; it had always been so easy and free between them. There were times when it seemed like they could finish each other's thoughts and sentences. Not now. As she stared into his face, the full realization of the aftermath of their summer hit her full on. She was smart enough to accept her own share of the blame, as she knew he was, too, and decided against questioning him about law school and his boys' school, which had been her true intentions. "Nothing, I guess. Well…" She looked around, saw the popcorn, and picked up the bowl, proud of herself when she didn't drop it in a heap on the floor. "You're right. I should be getting this back. Honey and Di must be back from her room. More importantly, Mart must be ready to gnaw on the furniture by now." Her lame attempt at a joke didn't even get him to crack a grin.

Honey and Di, plus Dan, were responsible for their 'innocent' meeting. He thought about it, recognized the fact that the threesome wouldn't give up easily. They would keep trying to place the two of them together, in order to restore the harmony of their group, and would probably end up pulling Brian and Mart into their plan at some point. They wouldn't be able to resist their girlfriends' wishes anymore than Dan had been able to resist the combined forces of his sister and Di. "They worked hard to get us here together," he remarked lowly, staring at a spot on the wall to the right of her face.

She nodded her head and looked down at the sea of popcorn in the bowl. "They did," she agreed just as quietly.

"They're going to do it again," he continued thoughtfully, picking up the soda again. The six-pack dangled against his side. The coldness seeping against his thigh didn't register. He could picture it perfectly in his mind. They weren't going to stop. They would keep trying again and again, until he and Trixie either perished from the difficulty of it or regained some semblance of their former selves together. An idea began to take form; one that wouldn't resolve their issues but one that would hopefully keep their friends from masterminding any more chance meetings. At the very least, it may bring the two of them a little bit of manufactured peace.

"Yeah," she answered somewhat stupidly, unable to come with anything remotely intelligent to say instead. They would. Every single one of them. Even her brothers would eventually be sucked in to help, the saps. It was inevitable. The vacation stretched out before her, not quite as merry or as relaxing as she hoped it would be. A strained relationship with Jim wasn't what she hoped for but it was blatantly obvious that was all she was going to get.

"That leaves us with two options," Jim decided firmly, wanting to avoid the possibility of another set-up as much as possible. It wasn't fun. He didn't look forward to many more of them. It hurt too damn much. He had a chance of surviving the break if they were in a group. Alone, he couldn't trust himself or his heart. Fleetingly wondering if she had the same problem, he brought his green gaze back to hers for the first time since he entered the room.

"Options?" God, she felt like a total idiot. Trixie forced herself to look up into his face. She had never seen him look at her like that, all bottled up without a thread of emotion showing towards her. Her own features felt stiff and unnatural. She wondered if he could see the yearning coming straight from her heart or the longing for him shining through her brilliant blue eyes.

He couldn't see it, not with the wall of hurt that the two had erected so well and so thickly between them. It would take more than a single meeting to chip away at it. It would take a hell of a lot more, should they decide it was worth a try to do it. He didn't look hard enough to see the longing or the desire. All he saw were two big blue eyes, hooded, with only a trace of her natural curiosity within. "We can go on as we have been tonight, staying in the same room and ignoring each other or…" He paused dramatically before adding, hating what he was suggesting but figuring it was the only way to avoid their friend's machinations again, "Or we can pretend that we're okay with each other. We're not, of course, but at least it would appease the others. If they believe we're willing to try and act at least somewhat friendly with each other, they won't try a stunt like this again. It'll keep them happy. It may help us out, too. It could make the holiday a little easier on both of us."

He couldn't have been more right, on all accounts. They definitely weren't okay with each other. They were about as far from it as they could get. She couldn't think of any way out of the mess that they had made together. Nothing; other than the biggest sacrifice of all. But she couldn't throw caution to the wind or herself into his arms. She wasn't brave enough, not when she thought about the rejection he could give her and how much it would hurt. Trixie's chest rose and fell as she pondered his suggestion. "I can do that," she decided hoarsely after a minute. Clearing the emotion out of her throat, she added, "It won't be that bad. And you're right. If we at least kind of talk to each other, then they will leave us alone."

"Then we're agreed." He opened the door and invited her through it with a wave of his hand. "We'll be…friendly." He almost choked on the word, wondering how the hell he was going to act friendly with the woman who had managed to shatter his heart. Worse, he didn't know if he could control his own emotions. If the simple act of holding the door open for her made his fingers itch to touch her, a right he no longer possessed, he couldn't begin to imagine what a prolonged amount of time in her company was going to do to him. None of his conflicting thoughts paraded across his face, a testament to the iron control he was exuding.

"Friendly." It seemed like such a normal, happy word. It should have made her smile. It should have made her experience a little relief. Instead, it made her want to cry. Knowing she couldn't get through the rest of the night if she gave in to the urge, Trixie pasted what she hoped passed for a large smile on her lips. It looked normal and it felt normal but it wasn't large enough to make her dimples wink or her eyes sparkle. It was limp.

The lack of dimples didn't register. He didn't study her close enough to notice, the only way he could protect himself. With a finality that seemed to mimic the end of the relationship they had once shared and announced the beginning of a new, less certain one that they were presently embarking on, the door closed behind them with a sharp, reverberating click. It had a finality to it that jolted both of them. Together, they walked down the hall, close to each other but not touching. Jim clutched the six-pack like it was a lifeline and glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. She was pale under her tan and carried the bowl of popcorn like a shield. Knowing they both needed their full mental capabilities working in order to fool their friends, he suggested softly, "Breathe." She gave a curt nod of understanding as they neared the entertainment room.

Loud, laughing voices could be heard from within. Their friends and family were inside, were awaiting the results of their trap. Ready for show time, he let out a laugh that grated on his dry throat and entered the room, his own smile not quite as wide as normal but intentionally large enough to trick the others. "I brought drinks and popcorn with me," he called out with a joviality that only Trixie recognized as forced and rather painfully so.

Oh, yes. His plan was for the best. She heard the collective sigh of the group after they saw the two of them together, apparently comfortable around each other. If a little play-acting was required, she could do it, for the benefit of the Bob-Whites. She loved them all too much to let their failed relationship interfere with them. She set the popcorn down in front of Mart with a flourish, who sighed in deep appreciation and immediately procured ownership of the bowl, and then she flopped down on the sofa before her weak knees could give out on her. She was marginally surprised when Jim settled himself close to her; close enough so that there wasn't any room between them for anyone else to sit down but far enough away so that they didn't actually touch. "I see Mart has already commandeered the popcorn," she said, her voice a little thick and foreign-sounding to her own ears, and forced a laugh through her numb lips.

"Nice choice in soda, Frayne," Dan grumbled after staring at the can with a look of pure male disgruntlement. Unpleasant grouches came from Brian and Mart after he showed them the label. "That's the last time we send you for the drinks." Deciding to be lazy, he didn't get up to fetch another drink, not even one of the many he had hidden behind the poinsettias. Dan shrugged in resignation and popped the top. His friends chuckled at his comical grimace after his first sip. His second one wasn't as bad.

"Oh?" Jim reached down for one of the cans, pretended to study the brand name on it for an inordinate amount of time, and stared down at Trixie, including her in what the others thought would be a joke. It took all his composure to make his smile easy and his tone light. "We thought it was your favorite, Dan."

Dan's dark eyes lightened for a moment. Fooled by the two, as were the others, he settled for his normal, cocky grin, and mentally patted himself on the back. If the two were talking and potentially plotting together to get revenge on their friends, that was good enough for him. "Definitely not my favorite," he shared and lay back against the sofa, the can balancing on his knee. "I'll take what I can get, though."

And so would he. Pretending a friendship with Trixie was better than nothing at all, he decided philosophically. So it wouldn't fill in the holes in his soul or weld together the breaks in his dreams. Jim sat back, his thigh gently brushing up against Trixie's. He nearly jumped at the contact, he was so damn surprised to feel her body against his again, even if thick denim resided between them. Memories upon memories threatened to overtake him but he ignored them, listening to the others argue about the next choice in movies. He didn't offer his input; instead, he unobtrusively shifted his side away from Trixie, not wanting to touch her. God, but it was going to be hard. He gripped the edge of the cushion before willing his hands to relax and settled back down. Honey had promised him a relaxing evening. She was quite wrong. Hell. It was pure and utter hell. As he caught Trixie's profile, he realized there was more common ground. She thought the exact same thing.


	43. Chapter 43

**Breakaway**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Forty-Two

Christmas was only a few short days away. It promised to be as bleak, cheerless and as endless as the few he had suffered through while Jonesy had been his guardian. Those unfortunate holidays were a mere blip on his memory reel; ones he worked extremely hard not to recall. He didn't have to worry about verbal or physical abuse. He had a secure family who loved and respected him. He also had many friends who supported him and cared for him. This holiday season was different. It was the feelings inside him that was making the season grim and the twinkling lights much less bright. In the six months they had been apart, his heart hadn't come close to mending. He ran a hand over it, almost as if touching it could help make it heal quicker. It couldn't. It would be a long time before it would be back to normal, if ever. His eyes skimmed over in the direction of her house, towards the small puffs of smoke wafting lazily up into the chilly December sky.

He still had not set foot in Crabapple Farm despite an invitation from Brian two days ago to have dinner with the whole Belden clan. Sitting at the same table with Trixie and her father hadn't seemed like the best possible idea. The immediate refusal had stuttered out of his mouth. He hoped Brian had understood it. While he could successfully stay out of Peter Belden's way, and most certainly would, he couldn't avoid Trixie, not without creating an insane amount of speculation from the others. Plus it would go against the shaky agreement they had come up with during their holiday movie night. So far, he had lived up to his end, as had she. He showed up at all of their functions and appeared to have a good time. She followed his lead beautifully. She hadn't faltered once; had responded with apparent friendliness to him. Were they at complete ease with each other? The answer to that question was an unqualified no.

Yesterday was a perfect example of their agreement. They had met at Di's house for an impromptu luncheon. Most of the Bob-Whites had been able to come, except for Brian who had volunteered to help out Dr. Ferris at his office for the day. Refusing the invitation hadn't been a possibility. He hadn't been able to come up with an excuse handy enough on the spur of the moment. Instead, he had spent the entire lunch sitting across from her, doing his noble best to partake in the conversation and the food that should have been delicious but tasted like sawdust to him while keeping the depth of his feelings from showing. From the way she had laughed a little too loudly and had refused to look directly across the table at him, it wasn't hard to come to the realization that she was experiencing the same frustrations.

Being around her damn well hurt. It was an endless ache that persisted despite all of his attempts to ignore it. He couldn't bring himself to break through the invisible wall that stood between them. And, he admitted, she couldn't either. They had managed a fairly good job of fooling their friends into thinking that they were at least attempting to patch things up and become friends again. No one suspected anything…with the possible exception of Dan, he reluctantly corrected himself. He inclined his head to the side, remembering the way Dan had taken to studying the two when they were together. His friend seemed to have already gathered the fact that their apparent comfort with each other was only for show and for their friends' sakes. Heaven help both of them if Honey or Di ever figured it out. They would never hear the end of it. He released a small, frustrated groan. After they reamed them out for trying to fake them out, the two would only go back to trying to put them back together again.

He picked up a stick, sent it humming through the air, and watched it dispassionately land on the spot close to where the mansion had once stood…and where he had first met Trixie, on that fateful July day so many years earlier. He surveyed the clearing that had once been Ten Acres. Nothing was there anymore; not the mansion, not even the summerhouse. Nothing. Shortly after his adoption, the foundation had been taken out and the ground leveled, all courtesy of Matthew Wheeler who had wanted to make the area as safe as it could be, especially with so many young teenagers running amok in the countryside. Rickety ruins caused by a raging fire were not what he termed safe. It was all gone, as if it had never existed. The area was left completely barren. Leveled ground, a few tree stumps, and glistening, crunchy snow from a light snowfall a few days earlier were the only adornments to it. As he looked his fill, he thought that the bleak gray surrounding the site suited his mood remarkably well. The blue farmhouse they had planned on building someday momentarily materialized in his mind, a brief, almost tangible figment of his imagination. He could almost see it, rising out of the snow, with a curly-haired blonde waiting for him on the front porch. It mocked and taunted him, standing for something he desperately wanted but believed he could never actually have. Not anymore.

With his mind reluctantly opened up to her and their past together, despite his best efforts to thwart her presence whenever humanly possible, he wandered farther into their past. Maybe it was because he was blissfully alone, finally away from their friends and family. Or it could have been because one of the most memorable and special nights of their entire relationship had occurred here, only a few months ago. Whatever the reason, he couldn't hold back the memory, despite his strong desire to do so. The spectacular evening on a warm May night, a few weeks before her high school graduation, came to him, teasing and tantalizing him with its very presence. Trixie's senior prom. Their special night, when they had come into the knowledge that their hearts could truly beat as one and that their souls could become as intertwined as their bodies. The deep breath he sucked in painfully filled his lungs with the cold, frigid air. The harshness of it was what he needed to pull himself back from the powerful memory.

Desperately needing distance, he rushed from the clearing, moving swiftly through the snow, almost as if the memories had the power to hunt him down and take him out. He couldn't believe they had traveled so far and so swiftly away from each other, like a speeding locomotive that had jumped off the track. To put it mildly, they had crashed and burned and had no one else to point a finger at but each other. It couldn't be comprehended. He simply could not figure out how two smart, intelligent individuals who professed to love each other as strongly and as deeply as they had could manage to make such a mangled mess out of their relationship. The fact that Honey's ordeal in the store had unwittingly showcased a few glaring faults in their relationship that neither had realized existed or had overlooked only made him feel worse. He wasn't that far gone that he couldn't admit that they had each played a solid part in their problems. Kicking a small mound of snow with his thick brown boots, he desperately wished that time could be stilled and turned back. If it could, there was so much that he would do differently, starting with the way he handled the interview with Sergeant Molinson right after the events at the store. He wouldn't have pushed her away. If he wanted the outcome to be different, he more than suspected that Trixie did, too. Unfortunately, he couldn't find a way through the maze of hurt feelings, disappointment, pain and even righteous anger to get to that point where they could hold a civilized, ordinary conversation, let alone talk out their issues. Suffering in limbo, while not an ideal situation, seemed to be the only path available.

With his mind filled to overflowing with thoughts of Trixie, both intoxicating and excruciating, he trudged away from the large clearing, his boots crunching the crispy snow beneath his feet and leaving large footprints in his wake. The swirls of the pattern on the soles were visible. He put his hands deep into the lined pockets of his jacket because he had, once again, forgotten to wear gloves. Shivering, he soldiered on through the cold. The weather forecaster that morning had cheerfully predicted a significant snowfall sometime within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, promising the viewing area that they would have a white Christmas for certain. With the way the gray clouds were starting to roll in, he was inclined to believe it. He had to hand Trixie one thing, he thought with a wry, almost amused grin. Winter in San Diego had to be much warmer and more comfortable than back in the East. He almost envied her the move and shook his head. He wouldn't be finding out what a winter on the West Coast was like anytime soon.

As he walked down the trail that he knew better than the back of his freckled hand, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps, coming from the direction of the Manor House. Stopping at the edge of the path, a half-smile of welcome on his face, he waited for the person to appear. His expectations were for Brian Belden, who had been up at his house visiting Honey when he had left for his sojourn into the woods. A light smirk spread across his face while he waited for his friend to appear. Stomping his feet to keep them warm, he faced the bend in the path. His stomach hit the ground when he recognized the petite body coming his way.

It wasn't Brian. He should have realized his luck had gone to hell and back and wasn't in any danger of improving anytime soon. Maybe it had a chance of improving once the next millennium rolled around, which really sucked for him because they were only a few handful of years into the new one. As it was, he made a mental note to not attempt any sort of gambling right now, even if it was merely purchasing a scratch-off ticket or buying a fifty-fifty at the local high school basketball game. He was certain to lose. The fates, as fickle as they were, were having a field day with him. His groan was swallowed up by the wind while the half-smile on his face dropped off alarmingly fast, to be replaced with nothing but a remote look that masked his true feelings superbly.

With her head bowed down against the biting wind, Trixie didn't know he was there. Yet. A knitted white cap, courtesy of Aunt Alicia, rested on her head, covering up all but the curls that were rioting becomingly underneath it. Her face was an attractive rosy red, made even more brilliant by the bite of the cold. She kept her arms wrapped around her body in a vain attempt to stop the wind from eating its way through the thick fleece of her jacket and muttered to herself, looking down at the frozen ground, "Gleeps! Brrr! I can't believe I forgot what winter feels like in Sleepyside."

Even from the short distance away, Jim heard her. Her grumbled words floated back to him with another strong advent of wind. A multitude of responses, ranging from the sarcastic to the furious to the condescending, ran through his mind but he didn't share any of them with her. Couldn't. He simply could not do it. It was the first time they were going to be completely and totally alone since their meeting in the kitchen at his house a few nights ago. He made his mind up fast that it was going to be quick, as quick as he could make it, and painless. He hoped. It had to be. He detested the purgatory he was stuck in with a vengeance. With absolutely no expression on his handsome face, he almost faded back into the woods, to let her pass without knowing that he was there. Instead of taking the coward's way out, he stood and waited for her to realize his presence.

Something alerted her. It could have been the large shadow the weak winter sun threw carelessly on the ground. Or maybe it was a brief movement she caught out of the corner of her eye as he rubbed a cheek. Most likely, it was the sixth sense she had developed for one James Winthrop Frayne II soon after she had first met him. Whatever the reason, she recognized him before her eyes settled on him. It coursed through her, chasing away the icy coldness of the day, leaving her breathless, anxious and tense. Her booted foot halted in midstride. Flustered, she stumbled over an exposed tree root but managed to right herself by catching onto a branch before she sprawled inelegantly at his feet. Her face immediately turned a bright, ferocious fire-engine red while she imagined how that would have looked. "Jim," she breathed out nervously, her voice tiny and her eyes the clearest of blues. Slowly, she let go of the branch and regained her balance.

A year ago, he would have made light of the near stumble, to help her get past the embarrassment of what she perceived as her habitual clumsiness. Today, he couldn't force a sound out of his numb mouth, not with the insurmountable mountain of issues existing between them. Instead, he nodded once at her, curtly and unfriendly, and didn't make another overture. His hands fisted in his pockets, the only sign of nerves he allowed himself to indulge in, but they were hidden from view. She couldn't see it. Nothing else gave him away. He was learning to excel at keeping his emotions close to his chest. He may not have the luck but he definitely had the poker face.

She didn't have a clue how much it cost him to stay remote from her or that he was as confused, hurt and sad about their situation as she was. Since she couldn't get a good read on him, she followed his lead and did the best she could to keep her feelings far under the surface. "Umm," she faltered, her mind swiftly turning to mush, and she blushed even redder. Her face felt like it was on fire. With one black-gloved hand, she pointed weakly in the direction she had come from, sending up a quick prayer of gratitude that she hadn't fallen on her bottom in front of him. "I, uh, I was up at your house. Honey called me a while ago and invited me up after Brian left. She wanted to talk to me before she went shopping with your mother. She needed a few last-minute gift ideas." And help with a Christmas present for Brian. While the Bob-Whites weren't exchanging gifts as a group, the established couples were. Trixie had agreed to the visit with a great deal of trepidation, almost anticipating another manufactured meeting with Jim at Honey's hands. She had been extremely relieved to learn that Jim had gone out for a walk and hadn't expected to run into him at all. She nearly rolled her eyes at the ironic twist of fate, wondering how she was going to get through the remaining weeks before the spring semester started up without losing her sanity.

He didn't say anything; only looked at her. Coolly and politely. Because he wanted to touch her, and very badly, he took a small step back from her. Putting his nervous energy to good use, he snapped off a small branch from a nearby tree. The loud noise startled her and made her jump. He broke the branch into small pieces and watched them float to the ground. Then he brought his piercing gaze back to her. He still hadn't spoken a word to her.

Something inside Trixie shriveled up at the way he was looking at her. His eyes were shuttered, as if he was completely closed off from her. The old, comfortable familiarity that had once existed beautifully between the two of them didn't seem to be there anymore. She thought with an odd catch to her breath that they only had each other to blame for it and wished that she had the courage to settle everything between them, once and for all. But she didn't. Nervously, she tugged off her cap and ran her fingers through her mass of curls, missing how he almost hungrily watched the way the blonde mass bounced and swayed with the movements and the wind. Because it was necessary to break the silence, she added, "She liked my gift ideas for Brian. We also decided that it would be a great idea to visit a few of our old friends, like Mrs. Vanderpoel and Mrs. Elliott. Tomorrow. We're going to do it tomorrow. Di's going to join us, too. We're going to stop by and bring them some holiday cookies," she finished, practically heaving the words out of her mouth because she was suddenly very edgy. Tugging the cap back onto her head, she peered up at him.

"That's a good idea," he finally answered, reluctantly taking up his part in a conversation he didn't want to partake in since he couldn't be rude to her, anymore than she could be to him. It was harder and much more stilted to talk with her than it was when they held a short, impersonal one in the company of their friends. "Honey told me before I went out for my walk that she needed to buy a few odds and ends. Our mother was looking forward to shopping in town with her."

"Hmm. Yes, that's what Honey said." Silence. Again. Long and biting like the wind. Trixie wasn't certain what to say next. Feeling frozen from the cold, and not only from the weather, she repeated unthinkingly, "I'm not used to the colder weather anymore. I forgot what a Sleepyside winter is really like."

His eyes went sharp before he bit out, "What did you expect?" For once, he released a small portion of his temper, forgetting to reign it in. It felt good to give it a little bit of life, to not keep it caged in, to revel in it even it only for a second or two, and to let the object witness it firsthand. With green flickers of impatience lighting his eyes, he tacked on for good measure, "Life here hasn't changed that much because you made the decision to move away."

Caught off guard, she wanted to defend herself with her impatience and would have, if she hadn't remembered the fact that an extremely private and secretive agency wanted her as an agent. Drawing on the strength of the fact that one of the most respected and forceful agencies in the entire world believed in her and in her abilities, she stood her ground. "I know. I never expected it to change that much. I became used to the warm weather," she answered, her hands clasped together tightly.

And she did him in, quite nicely. He couldn't respond with more anger or impatience, not when she was utilizing more control than he was at the moment. Lines settled on his forehead. He didn't want to turn himself into a complete ass. "I'm certain it's got to be a beautiful place. It's just a change," he settled for, his only way of agreeing with her, and started to move forward, hoping to get past her without having to come into direct contact with her. He had a suspicion that both of them would break on the spot.

"Yes. You're right. It is." Changes. It brought up more thoughts about the CDA and their lucrative offer to her. Coming home hadn't helped her make her decision yet. He would help her make her newest choice, whether he knew it or not. She searched for the courage to bring up the one subject she needed to know about and found it. She almost reached out to touch him, an automatic gesture, and laid her hands on her hips. Haltingly, she mentioned, "I'm not the only one here that made a change, Jim. I heard about yours, too. What…how…why did you change your major?"

The question halted him in his tracks, only a short distance from her. Within touching distance. Within breathing distance. Within…God, damn it all; within everything. His face briefly reflected his surprise that she had the audacity to ask him about the alterations to his plans. She, who had gleefully chosen to relocate without asking him his thoughts about her new university or preparing him for the possibility, was questioning his change in career plans. He hadn't been given that courtesy. His eyebrows shot up. "I needed a change," he answered with a careless shrug of his shoulders.

"Oh," whooshed out of her. Staring out into the glistening white of the woods, idly watching a bright red cardinal as it searched in vain for berries to eat, she thought about her choice. It had much longer-ranging effects than she had ever imagined it would, on that long ago summer night, exactly as her mother had warned her about. Closing the door? In one fell swoop, she had certainly slammed it, locked it, and obviously nailed it shut. Mentally castigating herself, she realized that she couldn't expect much better from him, certainly not open arms, not with the unresolved issues lying like an unlit keg of dynamite between them, simply waiting for one of them to ignite it and let it explode. Even knowing all of this, she couldn't squelch the need to know why he wasn't going to pursue his dream of the boys' school anymore. A light wind blew by, catching the curl he had always viewed as his and blowing it across her face. In a move he knew so well, she wrestled it from the wind and tucked it back behind her ear, patting it for good measure. But she couldn't give up. It wasn't in her nature. Tenacity was as much a part of her as was her curiosity and impulsiveness. "It's so different from what you planned to do, Jim. I, well…I wanted to know why, is all."

"You could figure it out. You don't need me to tell you," he responded, his voice carefully calm and measured. And as blank as the look on his face. He was proud that he wasn't allowing his own frustrations and hurt to seep through again. She didn't have a clue how hard it was for him to maintain his composure. It would crumble the second he left her. He knew it.

He had to give her credit. She didn't flinch. Surprised by the almost detached way he presented his answer, completely ignorant of the effect it was having on him to stay in control, Trixie blinked once, then twice, and agreed quietly, "I probably could."

Nothing else. Only the softly uttered words. She didn't elaborate. She did nothing but stare back at him out of her impossibly clear blue eyes, eyes that rivaled the brilliance of a bright, beautiful summer sky and put the winter one above them to shame. He couldn't read anything into them. Making a non-committal sound, refusing to let any weakness show on his part, he set his mouth into a thin, straight line and pointedly waited for her to say something else.

"I can tell you why I decided to go to CU, if you want," Trixie offered hesitatingly, hoping that if she shared a little with him, he may return the favor and open up a little towards her. She wanted him to accept her offer to listen to her more than she cared to admit. It took all that she had to make the offer to him. Honey had let it slip a while back that Jim had never accepted the letter she had written for him in the summer, which meant that he hadn't accepted her explanation, as well as the other private message contained within. She was pathetically grateful that Honey had kept the letter. If Jim had accepted it, it probably would have met an unfitting end with a shredder or a match.

Jim shrugged his shoulder coolly and responded dispassionately, "It doesn't make much of a difference now. I don't mean to be harsh but you're about six months too late."

His delivery sliced through her worse than a thousand angry words would have done. Smooth and even, without a tremble to his voice or a flash of fire to his eyes. Icy cool. Trixie opened her mouth, closed it with an audible snap, unable to formulate an answer. She couldn't argue with the truth or the way he had responded. He hadn't given her anything to stand on. Staring at him cautiously, she admitted, almost defeated, "Yeah." She drummed a finger against her denim clad thigh, needing to get rid of some of her nerves. Inhaling deeply, she made a decision to tell him and rushed on, "But I'll tell you anyway. I…um…I decided to accept the full scholarship I was offered there. It's only offered to a chosen few. They liked my essay and gave it to me. I was lucky to get it," she said into the lengthening silence and then grimaced at her poorly chosen words, knowing that her nerves had gotten the better of her. The true reason behind the scholarship flashed in her mind, reminding her it was much more than a mere college education that had been handed practically on a silver platter to her, if she chose to accept it. She watched him, gauging his reaction. He couldn't know that she was waiting with bated breath for his response. An insane part of her wanted him to blow up at her, to show her that he still had some feelings for her.

The full scholarship? The damn offer he hadn't even known existed until she was already gone? Hearing it now, from her own lips, made it seem even more real than the day classes had started up at NYU and she hadn't been with him. "Good for you," he congratulated her stoically, his voice toneless and his eyes flat. "From what I understand California University has an amazing criminal justice program. I heard Brian say that it is widely regarded as the best in the country. You couldn't have done better. Congratulations."

While the words were the correct ones for someone to give, they didn't carry an ounce of cheer or good fortune in them. Keeping her features schooled was difficult, more difficult than she ever imagined, but she managed to do it. "Thanks," she responded in the same tone he had used, feeling like an imbecile, her eyes slitted blue with deep, unexpressed concern. Thanking him wasn't what she wanted to do but she couldn't think of anything else to say.

If he was talking with anyone else, the natural flow of the conversation would have led him to the point where he questioned them about the first semester away. He couldn't bring himself to do it. He simply did not want to know about Trixie Belden, sunny San Diego or California University. There was no need for him to know how she was adjusting to life away from Sleepyside, from the Bob-Whites, and from him. "Good luck with that. I'm certain you'll do great. You always do well at whatever you set your mind to." The words of praise came surprisingly easy from him. Counteracting them, afraid that he was about to give in to his weakness, he gave a curt nod of dismissal, he half-turned. He wanted to leave with his pride fully intact if not his heart.

Displaying the tenacity she was known for, she didn't waste a minute before calling out, totally unaware of her own intentions until she voiced them, "Stop, Jim. You can't go yet. You still haven't told me why you decided to change your majors." Her face carried a brief look of surprise at her own audacity for bringing the subject up. Again.

He turned back around, fully facing her again, and lifted a single eyebrow. It had to be the most awkward conversation they had ever experienced. "I imagine it's for the same reason why you changed universities," he explained slowly, hating the fact that his voice had a twinge of condescension to it but unable to hide it, and attempted to bring the subject to a close so that he could get the hell away from her before he did something really stupid and showed her the true depth of his feelings. Inhaling sharply, he stated as simply as he could, "I don't want to talk about it with you. You'll have to respect it the same way I've been trying to respect your decision to move to California."

A quietly uttered blast, straight through to the heart. She was lucky to be left standing after its delivery. Respect. One of their key words from their first fight, before the actual storm had actually hit. In her opinion, the storm had raged on with much less potency than the angry words and hurt feelings between them. Worse, she couldn't offer up much of a defense. Hers was flimsy, at best. She had withdrawn from NYU. She had left. She hadn't shared her decision with him or prepared him for it. She had, quite simply, packed up and moved, while he was away at his camp, with no chance of communication between them. Looking back, it may not have been the best choice. "Good luck with that," she grumbled disconsolately under her breath.

Yet another thing they agreed upon. It was surprising to him that there was some common ground existing between them. An odd sort of thing that couldn't be termed a positive in the least. He didn't understand her choice; she sure as hell didn't understand his. At least there were a few things they were still dead even on. "Same to you," he countered smoothly.

Nerves danced along the edges of her spine. She wasn't going to be able to reach him. He was beyond her now, was about as far away from her as he could get. Her chest rose and fell while the realization hit her fully, as powerful as if she had taken a bullet to the center of her chest at point blank range. There didn't seem to be any possible way to solve their problems or overcome their hurt feelings. Her face lost its rosy color, became as white as the snow at their feet. Her shiver wasn't from the weather. It came from the coldness seeping within her, starting at the very center of her soul and working its way out towards her extremities. She wished he had lost a tiny bit of his control. If he had, maybe she could have reached him then.

Protecting himself, he took a step away from her, his hands tightly balled fists hidden in his pockets, as if he could center all of the stress, tension, and anguish there and squeeze it out of him. None of it showed on his face or in his voice. With feigned nonchalance, he bid her farewell. "Well, I've got to go. I've got some studying to do."

"Studying?" she repeated, slightly stunned, until she remembered what he would be studying for. "That's right. The LSATs," she murmured under her breath, shaking her head in amazement. It didn't seem right. Jim was preparing for law school, of all things. It was all wrong. So much was wrong right now.

He acknowledged her with another curt nod and turned on his heel, preparing to finally complete his exit. His supply of energy was rapidly diminishing, as was the fortitude he needed to uphold his part for their conversation. "I think we're finished here. I'll see you around," he said as a way of goodbye that wasn't quite rude but wasn't exactly open. Without waiting for her response, he walked away, proud of himself for avoiding using her name through the entire conversation. He couldn't bring himself to say it, not to her, and tromped on the path. Pausing, he almost turned back for one last look but, with the memories of her prom night still biting into him hard, almost viciously, he couldn't. It hurt too much. Emotionally drained, he trudged on. The fanciful thought that he had left his heart behind him danced at the edges of his mind until he shoved it aside and ignored it.

Words caught in her throat; of apology, of pleading, of anger or sorrow, she couldn't tell or find the energy to express. Instead, she was frozen to the spot, like a living, breathing icicle. She forced herself to watch him leave. Hope beat frantic wings for one long second when it seemed like he was going to stop and turn back around, to come back to her or at least look at her. But he didn't. Disappointment sat heavily on her shoulders as she watched until he disappeared around the bend in the path. Then he was gone from her sight. She strained her ears but all she could hear were the sounds of the bare branches rattling around her. Dull and dreary.

She closed her eyes in weary resignation. That special connection that used to exist between them had been damaged, severely so, exactly as her mother had warned her about when she had given her permission to leave for California. Trixie didn't know if it could ever be repaired or if it was irrevocably severed for good. The wind chose that moment to whip by, a long, icy blast. She blamed it for the sting of tears sparkling in her eyes. She stood tall against the crisp blue sky, her red coat standing out, and her face showcasing her despair. Almost as an afterthought, she reached up and swiped away the tears that were threatening to spill.

Trapped in her thoughts, Trixie didn't move for the longest of times. Ignoring the harsh winter air, she thought about everything. Their past, their fights, their misunderstandings, mistakes and miscommunications. Their recent talk, the realization that they had a serious lack of connection between them, took forefront, as did the strained relationship they had now. He didn't even want to be her friend, was more than willing to pretend to get along with her in order to keep the harmony of the Bob-Whites. She couldn't blame him. She wasn't exactly open to him. Her features hardened for a moment before she resolutely smoothed them out. She hadn't firmly believed until that moment that they were completely done. The truth hurt far worse than she ever expected it to.

Standing in the woods, alone, with the weak sun glinting off the snow and low, gray clouds rolling in, the answer she had been searching for came to her, the one she had been contemplating, the one she had put off answering. Now, as Jim Frayne had walked away from her without a second glance, she knew what she was going to do. Trixie seemed to grow taller once she made her decision. It was an outlet, gave her a purpose, and allowed her to overlook her pain and focus on something new and challenging. It may even be fulfilling. At the very least, it would keep her busy. Inhaling sharply, calling on her strength, she reached for her cell phone, her fingers sure, strong and refusing to shake. She couldn't be weak, not if she was going to accept. Slipping it out of her pocket, she contemplated it, admitting to herself that once she put the call through there wouldn't be any turning back. Her answer would be final.

She breathed out slowly. The air caught her breath, showcasing it in a wispy, whirling dance, before it evaporated into the sky. Her heart began hammering within her chest…with an excitement she hadn't imagined possible. A new challenge awaited her, one where she could have a real chance to make a significant difference in the world and put her never failing curiosity to excellent use. Slowly, deliberately, she pulled off one black glove and called up the number that she had programmed into her cell the night she had been given it in San Diego. The authoritative voice on the other end answered on the second ring, his greeting clipped, business-like and not allowing his own apprehension to show once he recognized the caller on the other end. She hesitated for one single, solitary second. When she gave her answer, she would no longer be the Trixie that her friends and family knew. She would become someone different. The idea appealed to her. Looking up into the sky, she declared, her voice infused with all the strength she could put into it, and a steely glint in her blue eyes, "Count me in."

I hope you've enjoyed _Breakaway_. The story of Trixie and Jim will be continued in the next part…coming very soon. Thank you for sticking with me! If you're like me and you need a little happy Jim and Trixie moment, please check out my website for a link to Trixie's prom night. You can find it by clicking on my profile here. It's under my homepage. I'm not going to post it here because I don't want an M rating for my story. It's passworded so you'll need to contact me if you're 18 or older and wish to read it. Thanks!


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